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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

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IN  MEMORY  OF 

Gerald   Sherman 


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The  Surgeon's  Stories. 


By  Z.  TOPELIUS. 


THE 

SURGEON'S  Stories. 

BT 

Z.   TOPELIUS, 

o 

Trofessok  of  History,  University  of  Abo,  Finland. 


A   SERIES  OP 

Swedish  Historical  Romances, 

IN  SIX  CYCLES. 

(Each  Cycle  in  o^te  Volume.    Price  51.25.) 

FiusT   Cycle  —  Times  op  Gustap  Adolf. 
Second  Cycle  — Times  of  Queen  Christina. 
Third  Cycle  —  Times  op  Charles  XII. 
Fourth  Cycle — Times  op  Frederick  Adolf. 
Fifth   Cycle  —  Times  of  Princess  op  Wasa. 
Sixth   Cycle  —  Times  of  Gustaf  III. 


THE  SUKGEON'S  STORIES. 


TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


Z.  TOPELIUS. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  ORIGINAL  SWEDISH. 


CHICAGO: 

JANSEN,  McCLURG,  &  COMPANY. 

1883. 


COPTKIGHT, 

BY  JANSEN,  McCLTJRG  &  CO., 

A.  D.,  1882. 


R    R.  Donnelley  &  Sons.  Printers,  Chicago. 


INTRODUCTION  : 

TREATING   OF   THE    SURGEON   AND    HIS    LIFE. 

HE  was  born  in  one  of  the  smaller  towns  of 
East  Bothnia,  on  the  15th  of  August,  1769 — 
the  same  day  as  Napoleon.  I  remember  the  day 
also  from  the  fact  that  the  Surgeon  was  accustomed 
to  celebrate  it  with  a  little  social  party,  to  which  he 
alwavs  invited  two  or  three  of  his  old  cousins  (he 
called  all  his  old  aunts  "  cousins "),  and  two  or 
three  of  his  brothers  (he  called  everyone  brother 
who  called  him  uncle).  These  people  collected  in 
his  garret,  and  were  treated  with  cakes  and  cotfee. 
The  apartment  was  necessarily  rather  dark,  being 
lighted  from  the  outside  OTily  through  two  dormer 
windows  ;  but  it  was  a  large  one,  which  was 
fortunate,  as,  besides  the  two  or  three  cousins  and 
the  two  or  three  brothers,  the  parties  were  at- 
tended by  a  dozen  children — boisterous  boys  and 
chattering  girls,  who  made  a  great  deal  of  noise 
and  tumbled  everything  about  in  disorder.  For 
the  Surgeon  had  an  indescribable  fondness  for 
children,  and  allowed  us  to  do  as  we  liked, 
although  our  noise  often  deafened  the  older  and 
more  sedate  guests.  But  we  must  return  to  the 
Surgeon's  birthday — which  is  the  first  point  in 
his  claim  to  our  interest;  and  he  had  more  such 
points  than  have  most  people. 

The    fact    that    the   Surgeon  was   born    on    the 
same   day  as   Napoleon   not   only  constituted   the 

(5) 


THE   SURGEON'S  STORIES. 


pride  of  his  life  but  was  the  cause  of  several  of 
his  most  important  adventures,  for  he  never  ceased 
to  see  in  this  coincidence  a  very  remarkable  omen. 
Even  if  he  had  never  become  a  great  man,  as 
perhaps  in  his  youth  he  had  dreamed  he  might, 
yet  this  omen  urged  him  forward,  to  seek  honor 
and  fortune  in  various  fields  of  life.  His  pride, 
like  his  ambition,  was  of  that  mild  and  genial 
kind  which  smiles  silently  at  itself,  and  is  un- 
willing to  harm  even  a  caterpillar.  It  was  one  of 
those  innocent  illusions  which,  born  of  the 
merest  chance,  are  kept  up  through  life  as  matters 
of  the  greatest  weight  and  significance ;  which 
are  never  abandoned,  though  reality  proves  them 
a  thousand  times  to  be  a  dream.  Anyone  who 
understands  human  nature  could  easily  have  told 
the  Surgeon  that,  with  an  ambition  such  as  his,  he 
would  never  be  able  to  play  a  brilliant  t6U,  even 
were  he  a  hundred  times  born  on  the  same  day  as 
Napoleon.  For  altogether  different  is  that  ambition 
which,  through  a  thousand  hindrances,  forces  its 
way  to  the  heights  of  human  greatness;  which, 
with  the  inexhaustible  resources  of  genius,  cour- 
age and  energy,  combines  entire  indifference  to  the 
means  by  which  it  seeks  its  end.  When  does  the 
proud  conqueror  count  the  victims  who,  for  his 
honor,  bleed  on  the  battle-field;  all  the  tears,  all 
the  ruins  of  human  happiness,  over  which  he 
pushes  his  way  toward  that  phantom  of  a  great- 
ness which  gleams  through  the  centuries  ? 

Had  the  Surgeon,  on  his  famous  birthday,  been 
brought  into  the  world  by  Madame  Lfetitia  Bona- 
parte, in  Ajaccio,  he  might  perhaps  have  become 
something  else  than  a  surgeon,  but  scarcely  any- 
thing greater.  It  is  true'  that  Napoleon's  cele- 
brated cook  once  declared,  in  the  consciousness  of 


INTRODUCTIOl^. 


his  greatness,  that  "  one  may  become  a  cook,  but 
one  is  horn  a  turnspit."  Yet  lie,  a  genius,  forgot 
the  predestination  of  genius;  born  a  turnspit,  one 
seldom  becomes  anything  else  in  reality,  even 
thougli  lie  have  gold  on  his  collar  or  diplomas  in 
his  pocket.  The  Surgeon  was  not  born  to  be  a 
Napoleon;  not  because  he  had  the  burgher  name, 
Andreas  Biick  (he  had  studied  Latin,  and  always 
signed  himself  Andreas,  instead  of  the  common 
form  of  Anders),  nor  because  his  father  was  a  sim- 
ple sergeant,  wlio  lost  an  arm  in  the  Pomeranian 
War;  but  for  the  reason  that  one  with  such  an 
inexhaustible  fund  of  good  humor  and  irresolution, 
even  when  possessing  a  more  brilliant  intellect 
than  had  fallen  to  the  Surgeon's  lot,  may  possibly 
become  a  bold  partisan,  but  never  a  great  general, 
in  the  battle  of  life. 

The  Surgeon  was,  in  his  childhood,  as  he  him- 
self used  to  say,  a  great  rogue;  but  as  he  showed 
a  quick  understanding,  he  was  sent  by  his  uncle, 
a  wealthy  merchant,  to  a  school  in  Wasa.  At  the 
age  of  eighteen,  he  had  advanced  so  far  that,  with 
a  fiikin  of  butter  in  the  wagon  and  seventeen 
dollars  in  his  pocket,  he  went  to  Abo,  to  pass  his 
student's  examination.  He  got  througli  it  without 
difficulty;  and  our  newly-made  student  was  now, 
according  to  the  wish  of  his  uncle  and  benefactor, 
going  to  strive  with  all  his  might  for  the  gown  and 
surplice.  With  secret  sighs,  he  sat  down  to  his 
Hebrew  Codexj  his  thoughts  flew  all  over  the 
world,  and  his  eyes  strayed  too  frequently  from 
Bereschit  bara  eloliim  to  the  parades  in  the  square, 
where  the  fine-looking  troops  were  reviewed  be- 
fore they  left  for  the  Avar.  "Oh!"  thought  the 
future  ecclesiastic,  "  if  ]  were  only  a  soldier, 
standing   there   so  straight  in  the  ranks,  ready  to 


THE   SURGEON'S  STORIES. 


fig-lit,  like  my  father,  for  king  and  country!  "  But 
there  was  one  who  put  a  decided  stop  to  the  mat- 
ter: his  mother  had  never  been  able  to  forget  that 
his  father  lost  his  arm  in  the  war,  and  she  had 
exacted  a  sacred  promise  from  her  son  that  he 
would  never  become  a  soldier. 

Young  Biick  was  a  good  son,  so  he  returned 
from  the  parades  to  his  Codex;  but  he  had  not 
gone  more  than  half  throug-h  Genesis  before  a 
bombshell  scattered  all  his  plans  and  thoughts. 
This  bombshell  was  an  advertisement  in  the  Abo 
newspaper,  signed  "  Erik  Gabriel  Hartman,"  in 
behalf  of  the  Medical  Faculty,  stating  that  stu- 
dents who  wished  to  take  service  as  surgeons  in 
the  hospitals  and  regiments  during  the  war  should 
present  themselves  without  delay  for  private  med- 
ical instruction;  after  which — quite  soon,  of  course, 
for  the  war  was  in  full  progress — they  could  count 
upon  being  ordered  out,  with  five  oi-  six  dollars 
per  month  to  begin  with.  Now  our  man  was  no 
longer  to  be  held  back:  he  wrote  home  that,  as  a 
surgeon,  one  is  accustomed  to  take  off  other  peo- 
ple's limbs,  without  losing  any  himself  ;  and  after 
much  solicitation,  he  received  the  desired  consent. 
In  an  instant  the  Codex  stood  upside  down  on  the 
shelf.  Back  did  not  study— he  swallowed — the  art 
of  surgery,  and  in  a  few  months  was  as  good  a  sur- 
geon as  many  others:  for  in  those  times  they  were 
not  so  p^articular.  Who  does  not  remember  how 
P^ranzen  sings,  in  his  excellent  "  Once  and  Now:" 

"Onro,  doctors  cut  off  fingers,  toes, 
Whose  uselessness  was  sure; 
Now,  fhey  quickly  take  off  those 
They  know  not  how  to  cure." 

It  is  very  possible   that  the  poet   then  thought  of 


liVTRODUC  TION.  9 

Biick.     But  our  Suro-eon  did  not  allow  hiuiseli'  to 
be  disturbed. 

He  was  in  the  campaigns  of  1788  and  1789  on 
land,  and  of  1790  at  sea;  was  in  many  a  hard  strug- 
gle, drank  boldly  (according  to  his  own  account), 
and  cut  off  arms  and  legs  in  the  most  jubilant 
manner.  At  that  time  he  knew  nothina;  about 
Napoleon,  nor  the  coincidence  of  his  birth,  and 
consequently  did  not  yet  consider  himself  des- 
tined for  anything  great.  But  he  often  related 
afterwards  how,  on  the  eventful  3d  of  July,  in 
Wiborg  Bay,  with  Stedingk  on  board  the  "  Styr- 
bjorn  "  at  the  head  of  the  flotilla,  he  passed  the 
enemy's  batteries  at  Krosserort's  Point,  and  had 
the  splinter  of  a  spar  hit  him  in  the  right  cheek, 
o-ivino-  him  a  scar  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  The 
same  ball  which  caused  the  accident  tore  along 
the  ship  with  great  havoc,  and  whizzed  by  the 
commander's  ear,  making  him  completely  deaf  for 
a  moment.  Biick  was  instantly  on  hand  with  his 
lancet  and  cordials,  and  in  three  minutes  Stedino-k 
had  his  hearinar  aarain.  It  was  iust  at  the  time 
when  the  danger  was  greatest  and  the  shower  of 
balls  hottest.  Crash!  The  vessel  was  as-round. 
*•'  Boys,  we  are  all  lost!  "  shrieked  a  voice.  "  Oh, 
no!  "  answered  another — Henrik  Fagel,  from  Ah- 
lais  Village,  in  Ulfsby;  "  order  all  the  men  to  the 
prow;  it  is  the  stern  that  has  stuck."  "All  men 
to  the  prow!  "  commanded  Stedingk.  "  Styr- 
bjorn"  was  again  afloat,  and  the  whole  Swedish 
fleet  followed  in  its  wake.  Biick  used  to  say: 
"  What  the  deuce  would  have  become  of  the  fleet 
if  Stedingk  had  remained  deaf '?"  and  everybody 
understood  the  old  man's  meaninar:  he  had  saved 
the  whole  Swedish  fleet,  of  course.  But  if  one 
happened   to  smile  at  his  innocent  boast,  then  he 


10  THE   SURGEON'S  STORIES. 

laughed  too,  and  added,  good-naturedly:  "  Yes,  yes; 
you  see,  brother,  I  was  born  on  tlie  15th  of  August; 
that  is  tlie  whole  secret;  it  is  no  merit  of  mine." 

When  the  war  was  over.  Back  be2:an  to  feel 
uneasy  at  the  hospitals,  and  as  he  (according  to  his 
own  assertion)  was  in  especial  favor  with  Stedingk, 
he  said  a:ood-bv  to  the  fleet  and  went  with  his 
patron  to  Stockholm — as  family  physician,  I  think 
he  once  caid;  but  others  assert  that  lio  was  rather 
engaged  as  a  scribe.  Quick,  energetic,  and  trust- 
wortliy,  he  understood  many  a  side  hint  and  re- 
ceived confidences,  which  he  (according  to  his  own 
account)  honored  perfectly.  He  stood  at  that  time 
in  extensive  relation  with  valets,  chambermaids, 
secretaries,  and  such  people,  who,  in  that  time  of 
political  intrigue  in  high  places,  played  an  import- 
ant part;  nay,  often  were  they  apparently  insignif- 
icant but  in  reality  eftective  agencies  in  many  an 
entangled  cabal  which  spun  its  web  in  darkness 
until  it  had  ensnared  the  highest  personages  in  the 
kinjxdoin  and  brouo-ht  them  to  ruin.  I  have  never 
been  able  to  find  out  how  much  of  a  role  the  Sur- 
geon really  played  in  these  celebrated  cabals;  it  is 
possible  that  it  was  not  so  considerable  as  he  some- 
times made  it  appear.  But  that  it  was  ever  a  low 
and  perfidious  one,  I  take  it  upon  myself  to  deny. 
Biick  was  too  honest  a  fellow  at  heart  for  anything 
of  that  kind.  I  am  more  inclined  to  believe  that 
he  did  others'  errands  without  fully  realizing  their 
political  import  until  he  saw  the  results  in  open 
davlio'ht.  But  one  thina:  is  certain:  that  in  those 
times  he  was  initiated  into  much  gossip  about 
prominent  pei-sonagcs,  both  of  his  own  and  of  past 
times,  and  picked  up  many  curious  items  which 
were  little  known  but  yet  were  important  and  sig- 
nificant. 


INTRODUCTION.  11 


The  Surgeon  was  a  "  Gustavian,"  in  the  same 
sense  as  a  great  part  of  the  middle  classes  of 
Stockhohn  at  that  time.  Dazzled  by  the  brilliancy 
of  the  court,  which  was  also  reflected  on  the  hum- 
bler circles  in  its  vicinity,  transported  by  the 
condescension  with  which  Gustaf  III.  knew  so 
well  how  to  gain  the  favor  of  the  masses  when  he 
heeded  it,  the  Surgeon  became  unconditionally 
devoted  to  his  king.  What  did  he  care  for  the 
political  dissatisfaction  which  had  for  a  long  time 
been  lurking  around  the  throne,  and  raising  its 
head  more  and  more  threateningly?  He  was 
young;  he  needed  no  reason  for  his  attachment. 
''  Such  a  mao-nificent  king!"  was  his  onlv  thought. 
He  was  at  that  time  a  thorough  royalist;  and  li  it 
happened  that  he  executed  others'  commissions  in 
the  service  of  intrigue,  it  was  because  he,  poor 
fellow,  supposed   he  was  doing  the  king  a  benefit. 

One  day  in  the  beginning  of  March,  1792,  the 
Surgeon,  at  that  time  a  good-looking  youth  (to  use 
his  own  words),  had,  through  a  cliambermaid  at 
Countess  Lantingshausen's — who,  in  her  turn  (the 
chambermaid's  of  course),  stood  on  a  confidential 
footing  with  Count  Klas  Horn's  favorite  lackey — 
obtained  a  vague  inkling  of  a  murderous  conspir- 
acv  ao-ainst  the  kins>:'s  life.  The  Surgeon  resolved 
to  play  Providence  in  Sweden's  fate,  and  reveal  to 
the  king  all  that  he  knew,  and  perhaps  a  little 
more.  He  sought  an  audience  with  tiis  majesty, 
under  the  pretext  of  having  a  petition;  but  was 
flatly  refused  by  the  chamberlain  on  duty,  De 
Besche.  He  rencvv^cd  his  request  the  second  time, 
but  with  the  result  that  he  was  turned  out  of  doors. 
The  third  time,  ho  placed  himself  in  the  road  before 
the  king's  carriage,  holding  his  written  statement 
hio-h  in  the  air.  "•What  does  that  fellow  want?" 


12 


THE   SURGEON'S  STORIES. 


asked  Gustaf  III.  of  his  attending-  chamberlain,  as 
he  alighted;  and  again,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it, 
the  chamberlain  was  De  Besche. 

"It  is  a  discharged  Surgeon,"  answered  the 
courtier,  ironically.  "He  humbly  requests  that 
your  majesty  may  most  graciously  begin  another 
war,  to  procure  him  something  to  do." 

The  king  smiled,  and  the  Surgeon  remained 
standing  in  confusion  at  the  gate. 

Some  davs  later,  the  king  was  shot.  "  It  was 
not  my  fault,"  the  Surgeon  used  to  say,  when  he 
spoke  of  his  valor  on  that  occasion.  "Had  not 
that  infernal  De  Besche  been  there  .  .  But  I 
won't  say  anything  more." 

Everyone  understood  what  he  meant.  He  had 
saved  the  Swedish  fleet  at  Wiborg;  he  would  also 
have  saved  the  life  of  Gustaf  III.  had  there  not 
been  an  "if"  in  the  way  in  the  shape  of  a  ma- 
licious chamberlain.  There  was  already  a  little 
of  the  loth  of  August  in  him;  at  least  so  he 
thought  liimself. 

The  Regency  and  Reuterholm  were  by  no  means 
to  the  Surg-eon's  taste.  He  had  withdrawn  from 
Stedingk's  service,  and  began  to  practice  his  pro- 
fession in  Stockholm.  More  than  ever  was  he 
drawn  into  the  scandal  of  the  day,  himself  a  wan- 
dering chronicle  from  patient  to  patient.  As  such, 
he  was  used  by  the  party  of  the  old  court  to  set 
certain  reports  in  circulation.  When  there  was 
anything  w^rong,  he  smelt  it  out  before  anyone  else. 
He  warned  (so  he  insisted)  the  leaders  of  the 
movement  of  1794;  but  none  except  the  Alci- 
biades  of  the  North  believed  him;  and  thus  he 
had  the  satisfaction  of  having  saved  Armfelt,  as  he 
saved  the  Swedish  fleet  and  Gustaf  III.  It  was 
he  who,  with  the   state    surgeon,  Froberg,  repre- 


INTRODUCTIOhL  13 


sented  the  medical  art  at  Lady  Rudensch5ld's 
execution.  This  cruel  execution,  where  genius 
and  beauty  were  trampled  in  the  dust,  where  the 
people  all  around  shed  tears,  and  only  the  base 
partisan  triumphed,  stirred  the  Surgeon's  honest 
heart.  His  tongue,  unaccustomed  to  keep  still, 
was  sharpened  by  indignation  more  than  was  ad- 
visable; and  he  asked  aloud,  so  that  all  heard  it, 
why  the  lady  was  not  allowed  to  sit  dowii^  when 
his  excellence.  Baron  Reuterholm's  uncle,  sat  on 
the  scaffold?  These  words  soon  came  to  Reuter- 
holm's ears;  and,  if  we  may  believe  the  Surgeon, 
a  scarcely  milder  fate  than  that  of  the  unfortunate 
lady  awaited  him.  The  Surgeon,  who  had  an  ear 
in  every  lane,  and  an  eye  in  every  chamber-win- 
dow, felt  something  unpleasant  in  the  air,  and  de- 
cided to  escape  in  time  from  the  threatening  storm. 
With  his  lancet  in  his  pocket  and  his  bandages  un- 
der his  arm,  he  fled  on  board  a  Pomeranian  yacht, 
and  in  a  few  days  was  in  Stralsund. 

I  no  longer  intend  to  be  discursive  about  the  Sur- 
geon's experiences.  After  a  little  wliile  he  went 
afoot,  as  a  wandering  quack,  on  the  road  to  Paris, 
where  the  Directory  had  just  come  into  power. 
One  army  was  raised  after  another.  Every  student 
took  to  the  sword  or  the  lancet.  The  Surgeon  ar- 
rived at  a  lucky  moment,  received  a  little  appoint- 
ment in  the  Italian  army,  and  stood  by  Napoleon's 
side  when  his  sun  of  fortune  rose  beyond  the  Alps. 
Now  first  apprised  of  the  significance  of  his  birth- 
day, the  Surgeon  felt  an  insatiable  ambition  awaken 
in  his  breast.  One  fine  night  he  abandoned  his  hos- 
pital in  Nizza,  and  hurried  to  Mantua.  He  wished 
to  call  on  General  Bonaparte  in  person ;  he  wished 
to  distinguish  himself.  In  short,  he  wished  to  make 
of  the  15th  of  August  a  ladder  to  immortality.     I 


14 


THE   SURGEON'S  STORIES. 


cannot  comprehend  how  it  was;  but,  in  fact,  he  as- 
serted that  lie  obtained  an  audience  witli  Bonaparte, 
and  presented  to  liim  liis  request  for  a  position  as 
army  physician.  "  But,"  siglied  the  Suigeon,  when- 
ever he  described  this  remarkable  day  of  his  life, 
"Bonaparte  was  very  busy;  he  did  not  understand 
me,  and  asked  one  of  his  adjutants  what  I  wanted. 
'Citizen  General,'  answered  the  adjutant,  'it  is  a 
surgeon,  who  requests  the  honor  of  sawing  off 
your  leg  at  the  first  opportunity.'  Just  then," 
added  the  Suro-eon,  "the  cannon  began  to  thun- 
der,  the  Austrians  advanced,  and  General  Bona- 
parte told  me  to  go  to  the  devil!" 

The  Surgeon,  who  had  saved  so  many  great 
personages,  was  thus  deprived  of  the  opportunity 
of  saving  Napoleon.  He  got  camp-fever  instead, 
and  lay  sick  half  a  year  in  Brescia.  From  there  he 
followed  the  French  array  to  Austria,  ran  away  to 
Switzerland,  and  tarried  for  a  time  in  Ziirich. 
There  he  took  charge  of  a  drug-store,  fell  in  love 
with  a  little  red-cheeked  Swiss  girl,  and  was  on 
the  point  of  marrying  her,  when  Prince  Kosakoff, 
then  Massena,  and  finally  SuvarofiF,  overran  the 
peaceful  city  with  their  hordes.  In  this  confusion, 
the  Surgeon's  betrothed  fled,  and  never  came 
back. 

He  sat  one  dav,  sorrowfully  looking  out  of  the 
window  of  his  shop,  when  two  Cossacks  approached, 
dismounted,  seized  him,  in  spite  of  his  resistance, 
and  hurried  off  at  full  speed.  The  Surgeon  thought 
his  last  moment  had  come;  he  had  not  tlie  slightest 
idea  what  this  meant.  But  the  Cossacks  brought 
him,  unharmed,  to  a  simple  hut.  There  sat  some 
officers  around  a  punch-bowl,  and  among  them  a 
stern  man  in  large  boots. 

"Comrade,"  said  the  man,  in  a  short  and  com- 


IN  TROD  UC  TION.  1 5 


mauding-   tone,  "out   with   your    forceps;    I    have 
tooth- ache." 

Tliere  was  no  help  for  it;  the  Surjreou  had  to 
take  out  his  forceps.  He  ventured  to  ask  what 
tooth  it  was  that  aciied. 

"You  argue?"  said  the  man,  impatiently. 

"No,  I  don't  argue,"  answered  the  Surgeon,  and 
pulled  out  the  first""  tooth  he  got  hold  of. 

.  "  Good,  my  boy!  March !  "  and  the  Surgeon  was 
dismissed  with  ten  ducats  for  liis  trouble.  The  list 
of  his  merits  acquired  an  important  addition;  he 
had  pulled  out  a  tooth  for — the  hero  SuvaroflF. 

Encouraged  by  this,  the  Surgeon  resolved  to 
seek  his  fortune  in  Russia,  He  went  to  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  called  upon  the  Swedish  minister,  Gen- 
eral Stedingk,  brother  of  his  patron,  the  admiral. 
Here  he  obtained  a  situation  as  physician  in  a 
military  hospital,  where  he  got  along  nicely,  and 
collected  a  little  fortune. 

Thus  passed  four  or  five  years,  when  the  intel- 
ligence came  that  Napoleon  had  mounted  the 
Imperial  throne.  The  Surgeon's  old  ambition  now 
revived  again;  he  resigned  his  place,  and  returned 
in  1804  to  his  fatherland.  With  his  merits,  he 
counted  on  a  brilliant  promotion;  but  no:  the 
Medical  Faculty  had  already  become  pretentious, 
and  wished  to  see  his  diploma.  In  his  vexation  he 
renounced  the  medical  profession,  and,  with  the  aid 
of  his  testimonials  from  Zurich,  purchased  a  phar- 
macy in  Stockholm. 

The  Surgeon  was  now  thirty-five  years  of  age. 
He  looked  back  upon  the  life  he  had  hitherto  led, 
and  found  it  rather  boyish.  He  said  to  himself: 
"It  is  not  sufficient  to  have  saved  the  Swedish 
fleet,  Gustaf  III.,  and  Armfelt;  to  have  had  an 
audience   with   Bonaparte,  and   pulled  a  tooth  for 


16  THE    SURGEON'S  STORIES. 

Suvaroff.  One  must  also  have  an  aim  in  life." 
And  he  beiran  to  realize  that  he  had  a  fatherland. 

The  war  of  1808  broke  out.  The  Surgeon  sold 
out  his  druar-store,  came  aa^ain  in  conflict  with  the 
Medical  Faculty,  and  was  not  able  to  mount 
higher  than  to  the  position  of  an  assistant  physi- 
cian in  one  of  the  Finnish  regiments.  It  was  just 
as  well;  he  no  longer  fouglit  for  glory  and  the  15th 
of  August.  In  the  army  were  lieutenants  with 
gray  mustaches;  why  could  not  the  Surgeon,  with 
twenty  years'  experience^  be  an  assistant  physi- 
cian? He  took  part  in  the  campaigns  of  1808  and 
1809;  his  place  in  all  engagements  was  close  by 
the  battle-field,  in  some  hut  by  the  roadside. 
There  he  fought,  in  his  way,  manfully  and  honest- 
ly, with  misery,  disease,  and  death;  cut  off  arms 
and  legs,  dressed  wounds,  applied  plasters,  com- 
forting the  wounded  soldiers,  with  whom  he 
shared  his  flask,  his  bread,  liis  purse,  and,  what 
was  more,  his  continual  good-humor,  with  a  thou- 
sand diverting  anecdotes  of  his  wanderings  in 
foreign  lands.  By  half  the  army  he  Avas  known  as 
the  tupakka  tohtori  (tobacco  doctor) — probably 
because,  through  his  business  relations  in  Stock- 
holm, he  was  constantly  provided  with  the  "  ex- 
cellent leaf,"  and  was  always  ready  to  share 
with  the  soldier  his  pipe  and  quid.  One  can  be 
Christian-like  even  in  tobacco!  The  Surgeon  was 
not  so  stuck-up  that  he,  like  Konow's  corporal, 
went 

"  With  two  quids  from  sheer  pride." 

On  the  contrary,  he  rather  went  without  any,  when 
the  need  was  great  and  a  wounded  comrade  had 
got  the  last  bit  of  the  roll  in  the  pocket  of  his 
yellow     nankeen    vest.       Therefore    the     soldiers 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

loved  the  "  tobacco  doctor,"  and  Fieandt  swore 
that  he  would  promote  him — for,  next  to  bullets 
and  gunpowder,  there  was  nothing  in  the  wide 
world  so  deserving  of  a  man's  respect  as  an 
honest  quid  and  a  package  of  smoking-tobacco. 

The  Surcreon's  adventures  durina:  the  war 
might  easily  fill  a  whole  Christmas  calendar;  but 
I  will  leave  them  for  the  present,  and  only  men- 
tion, in  passing,  that  in  1<S08  he  celebrated  his 
birthday  on  the  seventeenth  of  August,  at  Alavo. 
After  the  war,  he  resigned — without  a  pension,  of 
course.  When  peace  was  concluded,  in  1809,  and 
so  many  Finns  moved  over  to  Sweden,  the  Sur- 
geon considered  it  more  honorable  to  share  all 
vicissitudes  with  his  fatherland,  and  therefore 
remained.  His  old  roving  disposition  did  not 
allow  him  to  bind  himself  to  any  fixed  place  in  the 
community;  so  he  travelled  around  the  country  for 
a  few  years  with  his  little  medicine-chest,  pre- 
scribing  for  and  curing  all  diseases  with  lancet, 
cupping-horns,  essentia  dulcis,  and  mixtura  sim- 
plex. From  parish  to  parish  and  village  to  village, 
he  drove  around  with  his  old  horse  and  his  medicine- 
chest,  welcome  everywhere,  and  just  as  much 
sought  for  as  any  Doctor  Bolliger  of  modern 
times.  The  Surgeon  was  free  as  a  bird  on  the 
wing.  Voluble  and  amusing,  he  spiced  his  best 
rhubard  with  comical  stories,  sure  to  find  in  every 
farm-house  a  hospitable  board  and  -a  talkative 
hostess.  It  was  a  happy  season.  I  am  perfectly 
convinced  that  the  Surgeon  then  accomplished 
much  good;  but  this,  he  never  spoke  of. 

Still,  the   Surgeon   did  not   long  travel  around 

the  country  as  a  practitioner  among  the  peasantry. 

Since  1788  the  medical  art  at  the  universities  had 

advanced  with   seven-league   boots.     The  medical 

A  1 


18  THE   SURGEON'S  STORIES. 

authorities  began  to  take  severe  measures  with 
quacks  of  all  sorts,  who  still,  in  the  beginning'  of 
this  century,  overran  the  country;  often  enough, 
it  is  true,  to  the  detriment  ami  shame  of  the  med- 
ical profession,  but  as  often  to  the  benefit  of  suf- 
fering humanity:  for  regular  physicians  were 
extremely  few,  and  apothecaries,  likewise,  far 
apart.  Now,  as  the  Surgeon  had  before  been  in 
open  conflict  with  the  Medical  Faculty  in  Upsala 
and  Abo,  it  was  only  necessary  for  a  zealous 
colleague  to  report  his  medical  itineracies _^ in  the 
country.  The  Surgeon  was  called  to  Abo,  to 
undergo  colloquium  famlliare^  but  did  not  choose 
to  obey,  which  was  really  impolitic;  for  with  his 
merits  from  the  war,  he  would  have  been  self- 
indorsed  for  the  position  of  city  physician.  But 
he  was  stubborn,  and  too  much  in  love  with  his 
independence,  so  he  did  not  go  to  Abo;  .and  the 
result  was  tiiat,  under  penalty  of  a  heavy  fine,  he 
was  forbidden  to  continue  his  practice. 

The  Surgeon  now  for  the  third  time  gave  up 
medicine,  settled  down  in  his  native  place,  and 
took  to  fishino-.  It  was  an  interestinc:  wav  of 
gaining  a  livelihood,  but,  alas,  a  very  meagre  sup- 
port for  a  man  who  wished  to  have  his  daily  cup 
of  coffee  and  pipe  of  tobacco.  In  his  days  of 
prosperity,  he  might  have  accumulated  a  fine  for- 
tune; but  he  had  been  too  liberal  and  too  migra- 
tory. He  Jiow  owned  in  this  world  scarcely  more 
than  his  old  brown  cloak,  his  yellow  nankeen  vest, 
his  cheerful  disposition,  and  some  hundred  fish- 
hooks. He  therefore  let  himself  be  persuaded  to 
seek  a  situation  as  vaccinator,  which  he  obtained 
through  the  influence  of  some  former  compatriots. 
The  old  marauder  in  the  field  of  medical  art  was 
very   well  contented   with  his    slight   occupation, 


IN  TROD  UC  TION.  \  0 

which  still  allowed  him  twice  a  year  to  roam 
around  the  country,  chat  with  the  old  women,  and 
live  for  the  day  according  to  his  old  habit.  Nor 
was  there  anyone  who  knew  better  than  he  how  to 
quiet  the  little  children.  When  his  needle  punc- 
tured the  fine,  soft  llesh  of  their  arms,  it  went  like 
play  under  kindly  words;  and  before  the  little 
ones  even  noticed  it,  the  pain  was  over.  This 
gained  for  the  Surgeon  still  more  the  good-will  of 
all  the  mothers.  They  even  forgave  him  his  ugly 
habit  of  chewing  tobacco:  it  was  too  late  to  cure 
it  now. 

And  then  the  snow  of  old  age  stole  mildly  and 
imperceptibly  over  the  Surgeon's  head.  He  was 
one  of  the  few  fortunate  ones  who  had  ffone 
throuo-h  the  storms  of  life  without  losinsf  faith  in 
humanitv:  alwavs  j^lad  and  free  from  sorrow,  and 
without  ever  feeling  his  heart  hardened  under 
adversity  or  becoming  puffed  up  when  fortune 
smiled.  He  was  really  a  good  soul,  who  could 
smile  at  the  follies  of  his  youth;  and  yet  they 
seemed  to  cling  to  him  still.  The  Emperor  Napo- 
leon, "  his  natal  brother," — as  he  jokingly  said, 
alludins:  to  the  loth  of  Aua^ust — had  mounted  the 
height  of  human  greatness  more  quickly  and  des- 
cended from  it  again  still  more  quickly;  while  the 
life  of  the  Surgeon,  like  a  pendulum  in  its  even 
vibration,  swuno-  between  the  narrower  deo-rees  of 
a  success  which  had  never  spoiled  him,  and  an 
adversity  which  had  never  crushed  him. 

A  bachelor  all  his  life,  since  he  happily  escaped 
love's  snares  in  Switzerland,  he  cherished,  how- 
ever, none  of  the  prejudices  which  so  often  cause 
such  men  to  undervalue  the  holiest  impulses  of 
the  heart.  He  had  left  books  too  early  to  acquire  a 
thorough  education;  but   his  rich  experiences  of 


30  THE   SURGEON'S  STORIES. 

life  had  not  gone  by  without  benefit,  and  I  was 
astonished  at  his  knowledo-e  of  human  nature. 

Often  in  our  childhood  and  first  youth  we  sat 
up  there  in  the  old  garret  chamber,  around  his 
leather-covered  arm-chair,  by  the  light  of  the 
crackling  fire,  and  listened  to  his  tales  from  the 
world  of  fiction  and  from  life.  His  memory  was 
inexhaustible;  and  as  the  old  proverb  says  that 
even  the  wild  stream  does  not  let  its  waves  flow- 
by  all  at  once,  so  had  the  Surgeon  also  a  con- 
tinually new  stock  of  stories,  partly  from  his  own 
time,  but  still  more  from  periods  which  had  long 
since  passed.  He  had  not  a  wide  historical  knowl- 
edge; his  tales  were  desultory  character-sketches 
rather  than  coherent  descriptions.  More  recently, 
I  have  found  that  one  must  exclude  much  that 
was  merely  gossip  and  party  slander.  There  was 
also  lacking  those  broad  and  elevated  views  which 
are  only  gained  through  the  constant  association 
of  thouo;ht   and   feelina;   with   that  which   is   arreat 

C^  CD  O 

in  life;  but  what  he  had  was  fidelity,  warm  feeling, 
and,  above  all,  a  power  of  vivid  delineation, 
such  as  I  will  not  undertake  to  reproduce  from 
memory. 

When  we  had  listened  long  to  the  old  man,  it 
sometimes  happened  that  he  took  out  a  half-used- 
up  electric  battery,  and  drew  from  it  spark  after 
spark.  "  In  that  way  the  world  sparkled  when  I 
was  young,"  said  he,  laughing;  "one  had  only  to 
apply  a  finger,  and,  click!  it  flashed  in  all  direc- 
tions. But  then  it  was  our  Lord  who  turned  the 
machine," 

But  it  was  rare  that  he  wrote  out  a  story,  as  he 
did  "The  Duchess  of  Finland."  The  greater  part 
of  his  tales  were  related  orally.     Many  years  have 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

since  rolled  by;  some  of  the  stories  I  have  forgot- 
ten, and  some  1  have  compared  with  traditions  and 
books.  If  the  reader  finds  a  pleasure  in  it,  the 
Surgeon  M^ill  not  have  narrated  his  tales  in  vain 
-during  the  winter  evenings. 


The  SrEGEOi^'s  Stories. 


FIRST   CYCLE: 

TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Part   I.  — The  King's  Ring. 

Paet  TI.  — The  Swoed  and  the  Plough. 

Part  III. — Fire  and  Water. 


I 


CONTENTS. 


PART  I.— THE  KING'S   RING. 

Interlcde 37 

Chapter  I.  The  Battle  of  Breitenfeld          .         .  28 

Chapter  II.  The  Nobleman  without  a  Name    .  .   40 

Chapter  III.  Lady  Regina 46 

Chapter  IV.  Lady  Regina's  Oath        .        .  .63 

Chapter  V.  Judith  and  Holof ernes       .        .        ,  73 

Chapter  VI  The  Finns  at  Lech        .         ...   96 

Chapter  VII.  New  Adventures       ....  104 

Chapter  VIII  Nuremberg  and  Llitzen         .         .  114 

PART  II— THE   SWORD  AND  THE  PLOUGH. 

Interlude 137 

Chapter  I.  A  Man  from  the  Club  War        .  133 

Chapter  II.  Ashamed  of  the  Peasant  Name  .        146 

Chapter  III,  The  Southerner  in  the  North      .  .     1 58 

Chapter  IV.  Peasant,  Burgher,  and  Soldier  .        167 

Chapter  V.  The  Arrival  at  Korsholm    .        .  .    174 

Chapter  VI.  Loves  of  the  South  and  North  .        183 

Chapter  VII.  The  Siege  of  Korsholm      .        .  .    189 

(25) 


26 


CONTENTS. 


PART  III— FIRE  AND  WATER. 


Interlude 204 

Chapter  I.        Spoils  from  the  Battle-field         .        .  212 

Chapter  II.       Two  Old  Acquaintances          .        .  222 

Chapter  III.     The  Treasure-Room   ....  228 

Chapter  IV.     The  Duke  and  the  Lieutenant        .  240 

Chapter  V.       Reconciliation 245 

Chapter  VI.     The  Battle  of  Nordlingen       .        .  257 

Chapter  VII.  The  Prodigal  Son        ...        .  264 

Chapter  VIII.  The  Fugitive    ....  270 

Chapter  IX.     Don  Quixote  in  the  North         .        .  280 

Chapter  X.      Kajana  Ca?tle          ....  289 

Chapter  XL     The  Prisoner  of  State        .        .        .295 

Chapter  XIL   The  Tempter         .          ...  306 

Chapter  XIII.  AU,  MaU  Spiritus      ....  312 

Chapter  XIV.  The  Judgment  of  the  Saints          .  320 

Chapter  XV.    Bertel  and  Regina      ....  324 

Chapter  XVI.  The  King's  Ring  —  The  Sword  and 

thePiough  — Fire  and  Water     .  330 


TIMES  OF  GDSTAF  ADOLF. 


PART    L— THE    KING'S    RING 


INTERLUDE. 


AS  you  sit  in  your  quiet  home,  surrounded  by 
peace,  comfort,  and  civilization,  do  you,  reader, 
remember  those  memories,  grand  and  tearful,  winch 
still,  after  hundreds  of  years,  remain,  now  radiant 
with  the  brightness  of  sunlio-ht,  and  now  darkening, 
like  indelible  blood-stains,  the  variegated  pages  of 
history?  Can  your  thoughts,  torpid  with  repose, 
transport  themselves  back  to  the  horrors  and  joys  of 
the  past,  not  straying  indifferently  from  one  thing 
to  another  whicii  excites  vmir  curiositv,  but  takino: 
a  warm  and  vital  interest,  as  if  you  yourself  stood  in 
the  midst  of  those  struggles,  now  long  since  fought 
out,  bled  in  them,  conquered  or  fell  in  them,  and 
felt  your  heart  beat  with  hope  or  apprehension, 
according  as  fortune  smiled  or  betrayed?  Stand- 
ing on  the  heights  of  historj^,  and  looking  far 
around  on  the  wild  arena  of  human  destiny,  can 
you  transfer  yourself  into  the  vale  of  the  past — 
the  life  physically  buried  and  decayed,  but  spirit- 
ually immortal,  which  constitutes  the  essence  and 
substance  of  history?  Did  you  ever  see  history 
portrayed  as  an  old   man,   with  a   wise  brow   and 

(27) 


28  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

pulseless  heart,  weighing  all  things  in  the  balance 
of  reason?  Is  not,  rather,  the  genius  of  history- 
like  an  eternally  blooming  maiden,  full  of  fire, 
with  a  burning  heart  and  flaming  soul,  humanly 
"warm  and  humanly  beautiful? 

Therefore,  if  you  have  the  capacity  to  suffer  or 
rejoice  with  the  generations  that  have  been;  to  hate 
with  them,  to  love  with  them;  to  be  transported,  to 
admire,  to  despise,  to  curse,  as  they  have  done;  in 
a  word,  to  live  among  them  with  your  whole  heart, 
and  not  alone  with  your  cold,  reflecting  judgment, 
— then  follow  me!  I  will  lead  you  down  into  the 
vale.  My  hand  is  weak,  and  my  sketch  humble; 
but  your  heart  will  guide  you  better  than  I:  upon 
that  I  rely — and  begin. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    BATTLE    OF    BREITENPELD. 

FOR  centuries  there  has  resounded  through  the 
history  of  Germany  and  Sweden  a  name,  at 
the  recollection  of  which  the  Swede  raises  his  head 
higher  and  the  freedom-loving  German  uncovers 
his  head  in  admiration.  It  is  Leipzig,  Breitenfeld, 
and  the  7th  of  September,  1G31. 

King  Gustaf  Adolf  stood  with  his  Swedes  and 
Finns  on  German  soil,  to  protect  the  holiest  and 
highest  interests  in  life  —  liberty  and  faith.  Tilly, 
the  terrible  old  corporal,  had  invaded  Saxony,  and 
the  king  followed.  Twice  already  had  they  met; 
the  tiger  had  challenged  the  lion  to  the  contest, 


THE  KING'S   RING.  29 

but  the  lion  did  not  move.  Now  they  stood  for  the 
third  time  in  view  of  each  other;  the  crusliiiio^  blow 
must  fall,  and  Germany  trembled  in  anticipation 
of  its  fate. 

Early  in  the  morning,  the  united  Swedish  and 
Saxon  armies  crossed  the  Loder,  *and  marched 
toward  the  village  of  Breitenfeld,  where  they 
placed  themselves  in  battle  order.  It  was  some 
new  military  tactics  invented  by  the  king:  the 
foot-soldiers  in  brigades,  the  cavalry  in  small 
squadrons,  between  them  the  musketeers,  and 
the  whole  in  two  lines;  but  the  Saxons  were  by 
themselves. 

The  king  rode  along  the  lines,  inspected  every- 
thing with  his  keen  glance,  and  spoke  encouraging 
words.  His  eye  rested  with  delight  upon  these 
brave  men.  There  stood  Gustaf  Horn,  with  his 
troop  of  cavalry,  on  the  left  wing;  in  the  centre  the 
valiant  Teuifel,  and  in  front  of  him  Torstenson, 
with  his  light  but  formidable  leather  cannon; 
Baner  with  his  Livonians,  and  Hepburn  with  his 
Scots,  occupied  the  second  line. 

Last  of  all,  the  king  approached  the  right  wing, 
which  he  himself  commanded.  There  stood  five 
regiments  of  cavalry:  Tott,  with  his  regiment; 
Soop,  with  his  Westgoths;  Stenbock,  with  his 
Smalanders;  and,  farthest  of  all,  Stalhandske, 
with  the  Finns.  The  king's  look  brightened 
more  and  more  as  he  slowly  passed  the  saluting 
ranks. 

"  Stalhandske,"  said  he,  checking  his  colossal 
dark-brown  steed  at  the  last  Finnish  division,  "  I 
suppose  you  understand  why  T  have  placed  you  on 
the 'flank.  Opposite  us  stands  Pappenheim  with 
his  Wallachians.  He  longs  to  make  my  acquaint- 
ance," remarked  the  king,  smiling;  "and  I  expect 


30  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

that  we  will  have  a  hard  tussle  if  he  throws  the 
whole  swarm  upon  us  from  this  side.  I  rely  upon 
you  and  your  Finns  to  receive  him  energetically." 

The  king  then  raised  his  voice  so  as  to  be  heard 
by  the  whole  cavalry  force,  and  added: 

"See  to  it,^)oys,  that  you  do  not  dull  your  swords 
on  those  iron-clad  fellows;  but  rather  beat  down  the 
horses  first,  and  then  you  will  have  easy  work  with 
the  heavy  rider." 

The  Finnish  cavalry  realized  full  well  both  the 
danger  and  the  honor  of  their  position,  and  were 
proud  of  it.  The  king's  confidence  inspired  all 
witli  courage  and  self-reliance.  There  was  not  a 
man  who  did  not  feel  prepared  to  meet  the  dreaded 
Pappenheim  himself.  On  seeing  those  short  and 
thick-set  fio-iires  on  their  small  insis-nificant-lookins: 
horses,  one  would  at  the  first  glance  have  scarcely 
considered  them  equal  to  the  attack  of  the  stately 
Wallachians,  on  their  laro-e,  fierv,  stronoflv-built 
chargers.  Tilly  himself,  in  the  speech  he  made  to 
his  troops  directly  before  tiie  battle,  spoke  with 
contempt  of  his  starved-out  naked  enemies  and 
their  horses,  which  were  meaner  than  the  meanest 
pack-horses  in  the  Imperial  army. 

"  Ride  straight  upon  them,"  added  he,  "and 
horse  and  rider  will  fall  powerless  under  the  hoofs 
of  your  snorting  steeds." 

But  Tilly  did  not  really  know  his  enemy,  or 
pretended  not  to  know  him.  That  which  was 
lacking  in  the  Finnish  cavalry  in  outer  bearing 
and  appearance  was  more  than  compensated  for  by 
their  iron  muscles  and  their  calm  courage,  indom- 
itable in  death;  while  their  little  horses  had  all 
that  endurance  of  the  Finnish  race,  which,  during 
a  prolonged  and  wearisome  conflict,  contributed 
not  a  little  to  the  victory. 


THE  KING'S  RING.  31 


Followed  by  the  glad  liurrahs  of  the  Finns,  the 
kinsf  galloped  away.  Stfilhandske  tui'iied  to  his 
men  and  repeated  the  king's  words  in  Finnish. 
The  faces  of  the  eager  soldiers  shone  with  pride 
and  joy. 

"  Well,  Bertila,"  added  Stalhandske,  turning 
to  a  young  man  in  the  foremost  ranks,  who  rode  a 
handsome"  black  horse  and  was  distinguished  from 
the  rest  by  his  height  and  bearing,  "do  you  feel 
inclined  to  win  the  knight's  spur  to-day?  " 

The  one  addressed  seemed  surprised,  saluted 
with  his  sword,  and  colored  up  to  the  brim  of  his 
helmet.  "  I  have  Tiever  dared  to  aspire  to  so  great 
a  distinction,"  answered  he,  while  his  glowing 
cheeks  led  one  to  suspect  that  just  this  had  been 
the  object  of  his  most  secret  dreams.  "I  .  .  . 
a  joeasant's  son!  "  he  added,  hesitatingly. 

Stfilhandske  smiled. 

"  Thunder  and  lightning!  the  boy  blushes  like 
a  bride  at  the  altar!  A  peasant's  son?  What  the 
deuce,  then,  have  we  others  been  from  the  begin- 
ning? Do  you  not  furnish  four  fully-equipped 
horsemen  for  the  v.-ar?  Has  not  the  Lord  placed 
a  heart  in  your  breast  and  the  king  a  weapon  in 
your  hand?  That  is  a  coat  of  arms  in  itself;  you 
must  attend  to  the  rest." 

A  thousand  swift  thoughts  flashed  through  the 
horseman's  soul.  He  thought  of  his  childhood 
away  in  Finland,  in  the  distant  East  Bothnia.  He 
remembered  how  his  father,  the  old  Bertila,  who 
durino-  the  "  Club  War"  had  been  one  of  ]  )uke 
Carl's  most  prominent  adherents,  afterwards  re- 
ceived from  King  Carl  IX.  four  large  homesteads, 
each  of  which  furnished  a  horse  an.d  a  man,  and 
thus  became  one  of  the  richest  peasants  in  his 
.country.     He  recalled  his  first  youth  in  Stockholm, 


32  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

where  his  father  had  sent  him  with  the  ambitious 
hope  that  he  might  one  day  gain  honor  and  favor 
at  the  king's  side;  and  how  he,  still  more  ambi- 
tious, instead  of  acquiring  peaceful  knowledge, 
learned  in  secret  to  fence  and  to  ride,  until  at  last 
the  stern  father  finally  yielded,  and  allowed  him  to 
seek  a  place  in  the  king's  Finnish  cavalry.  All 
these  recollections  crossed  the  young  warrior's 
mind  in  an  instant;  for  now,  now  had  come  the 
time,  the  moment,  when  he,  a  youth  from  the  peo- 
ple, could  achieve  for  liimself  equal  rank  with 
this  proud  nobility  which  had  hitherto  looked 
down  with  contempt  upon  him  and  his  class.  It 
was  this  thought  that  drove  the  blood  to  his 
cheeks;  he  felt  that  it  could  impel  him  to  face 
death. 

Yet  this  was  not  all.  His  youthful  heart  ex- 
panded at  the  thought  of  fighting,  under  the  eyes 
of  the  hero-king,  a  hard  and  decisive  battle  for 
his  religious  freedom,  his  country's  glory,  for  all 
that  is  dearest  and  holiest  in  life;  and  this  convic- 
tion, shared  by  the  whole  army,  with  the  exception 
of  some  hired  foreign  troops,  bore  within  it  the 
certainty  and  foretaste  of  victory,  even  before  the 
strife  began. 

Before  the  young  horseman  had  time  to  reply 
to  his  noble-spirited  chief,  the  king's  high  voice 
was  heard  in  the  distance  calling  to  prayer.  The 
chivalric  hero  took  off  his  helmet  as  he  lowered 
the  point  of  his  sword  to  the  earth,  and  this  mo- 
tion was  followed  immediately  by  all  the  sur- 
rounding troops.  And  the  king  prayed  in  a  sono- 
rous voice: 

"  Thou  all-merciful  God,  who  bearest  victory 
and  defeat  in  Thy  hand,  turn  Thy  beneficent  coun- 
tenance to   us,  Thy  servants!     From  distant   lands 


THE  KING'S  RING.  33 

and  peaceful  homes  have  we  come,  to  fight  for 
freedom,  for  truth,  for  Thy  Gospel.  Give  us  vic- 
tory, for  Thy  holy  name's  sake!     Amen," 

At  these  words,  a  deep  trust  filled  every  breast. 

The  Swedish  trumpeter  rode  forth  to  challenge 
the  Imjjerial  hosts,  and  Tilly  answered  proudly 
that  the   king  well  knew  where  to  find  him. 

By  noon  the  attacking  Swedish  army  came 
within  range  of  the  Imperial  artillery,  which  was 
stationed  on  the  heights  behind  the  ranks.  The 
Swedish  artillery  responded,  and  the  battle  com- 
menced. The  sun  shone  right  in  the  assailants' 
eyes;  the  south-west  wind  sent  clouds  of  dust  over 
them,  and  whirls  of  thick  gunpowder  smoke.  The 
king  wheeled  his  army  to  the  right,  so  as  to  get 
the  wind  and  sun  on  the  flank.  Pappenheim  asked, 
for  orders  to  prevent  this;  and  receiving  leave,  he 
hurried  forward  like  a  prairie  fire,  swung  round, 
and  took  the  Swedish  right  wing  in  the  flank.  In 
an  instant  the  king  threw  the  Rhine  Count's  regi- 
ment and  Bauer's  cavalry  in  his  way.  The  colli- 
sion was  terrible;  horses  and  riders  tumbled  over 
each  other.  Pappenheim  drew  back,  but  only  to 
throw  himself  the  next  moment  upon  the  Finns. 
The  Wallachians'  long  dark  lines  rushed  forward 
in  blind  fury:  in  vain;  they  encountered  a  wall  of 
iron.  Their  first  rank  was  crushed,  the  next 
wheeled  round;  the  second  attack  was  repulsed. 
Pappenheim  raged;  for  the  third  time  he  rushed  to 
the  assault.  The  Finns  now  had  the  Livonians 
and  Courlanders  at  their  side.  Stalhandske  re- 
ceived his  enemy  as  coolly  and  resolutely  as 
before.  It  was  impossible  to  break  through  this 
living  wall. 

Stolid   and  slow  to   anger,  the  Finns  had  hith- 
erto    defended     themselves    with     imperturbable 
C 


34  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

calmness.  But  gradually  they  too  became  excited 
in  the  heat  of  the  conflict.  At  the  fourth  attack 
the  enemy's  ra2:e  had  communicated  itself  to 
them,  and  it  was  now  scarcely  possible  to  restrain 
them.  Stalhandske's  mighty  tones  sounded  al)ove 
the  tumult  of  battle;  once  more  the  cavalry  divis- 
ions closed  up  their  ranks,  once  more  the  foe  was 
thrown  back.  But  Pappenheim,  covered  with 
wounds,  urged  on  his  Wallachians  for  the  fifth 
time.  And  now  the  Finnish  lines  divided,  but 
only  to  inclose  the  assailants  in  their  iron  embrace. 
It  became  a  hand-to-hand  struggle,  and  the  Wal- 
lachians' horses  began  to  tire.  But  their  fury  was 
as  great  as  their  defeat.  For  the  fifth  time  re- 
pulsed, they  made  a  sixth  charge,  equally  bloody, 
equally  futile.  The  seventh  time  Pappenheim  was 
followed  only  by  his  most  faithful  men,  and  when 
this  last  desperate  effort  only  covered  the  field 
with  the  bodies  of  the  aggressors,  his  dreaded 
voice  availed  nothino-  more.  The  remaining  Wal- 
lachians  scattered  tiiemselves  in  the  wildest  flight 
toward  Breitenfeld. 

Covered  with  blood  and  dust,  the  Finns  took 
breath.  But  scarcely  had  the  smoke  cleared  away 
for  an  instant,  before  they  discovered  a  cut-off 
remnant  of  the  enemy's  force.  It  was  the  Duke 
of  Holstein,  with  his  re<riment  of  infantrv,  which 
had  accompanied  Pappenheim.  The  Finns  were 
now  warmed  up  at  last,  and  not  to  be  checked. 
Together  with  the  East  Goths,  they  surrounded 
the  Holsteiners,  crushed  and  annihilated  tliem: 
these  brave  fellows  defended  themselves  to  tlie  last 
man,  and  fell  in  the  same  order  which  they  had 
held  in  tlie  conflict. 

While  this  occurred  on  the  right  wing,  the  left 
had  fallen   into  the  greatest   peril.     Fiirstenberg, 


THE   KING'S  RING.  35 

with  his  Croats,  had  attacked  the  Saxons,  and  these 
soon  began  to  falter.  Tilly  saw  his  two  wings 
engaged,  and  finally  advanced  with  his  sixteen 
large  tertiers  which  formed  the  centre.  Like  a 
thunder-cloud  his  proud  hosts  spread  themselves 
over  the  plain.  Torstenson  gave  him  a  warm  wel- 
come. The  cannon-balls  swept  terribly  through 
the  Imperial  lines;  Tilly  drew  aside,  left  Pappen- 
heim,  and  threw  himself  upon  the  Saxons.  An 
avalanche  in  its  fall  could  not  occasion  greater 
destruction.  Scattered  at  the  first  shock,  the  Sax- 
ons fled  in  all  directions — their  Elector  leading  in 
the  flight — plundering  all  whom  they  met  in  the 
wav.  Tillv  could  now  throw  his  masses  against 
Horn  and  the  left  wino;  of  the  Swedes.  Pressed 
by  a  formidable  superior  force,  the  latter  withdrew 
slowly  to  the  left,  every  moment  ready  to  succumb 
in  the  unequal  contest.  The  king  hastened  there, 
and  cried  to  Callenbach,  with  the  reserve,  to  close 
in,  for  God's  sake!  Callenbach  did  so,  but  fell  in 
the  first  onslaught.  Teuftel  had  the  same  fate. 
At  last,  Hepburn,  with  his  Scots,  and  Soop,  with 
the  Smalanders,  marched  to  Horn's  assistance. 
The  Croats  rushed  against  Hepburn  in  thick 
swarms;  then  the  Scots  opened  their  ranks;  the 
concealed  cannon  commenced  firing,  and  strewed 
the  field  with  corpses.  Others  of  the  enemy 
pressed  on  in  their  track.  The  Scots  met  them 
with  a  shower  of  bullets  so  terrible  in  its  effect 
that  whole  ranks  fell  to  the  ground.  The  smoke 
and  dust  from  all  the  rest  of  the  field  was  driven 
here  in  dense  clouds.  Friends  and  enemies  were 
mixed  together  in  murderous  confusion;  they 
fought  with  swords  and  gunstocks,  and  victory 
inclined  now  to  one  side,  now  to  the  other. 

Then  began  again  unexpectedly  the  thunder  of 


36  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

cannon  from  the  heis^hts.  The  kino^  at  the  head 
of  his  cavalry,  with  the  Finns  in  front,  had  con- 
quered the  Imperial  artillery  and  turned  their  own 
cannon  against  them.  This  circumstance  decided 
the  issue  of  the  battle.  In  vain  had  Pappenheira 
tried  to  rearain  the  heio-ht:  for  the  eio-hth  time  he 
was  compelled  to  yield.  The  kino-,  with  his  vic- 
torious rio-ht  wing,  bore  down  upon  the  enemy's 
flank.  Everything  was  thrown  into  confusion. 
Tilly  wept  with  rage.  Pappenheim,  wdio  with  his 
own  hand  had  hewn  down  fourteen  Swedes  and 
Finns,  was  beside  himself  with  fury.  In  vain  were 
both  threats  and  prayers;  the  Imperialists  retreated 
in  wild  disorder.  Tilly,  whose  famous  gray  steed 
was  shot  under  him,  barely  escaped  being  taken 
prisoner;  and  the   king's  victory  was  complete. 

^But  a  bloody  scene  yet  remained.  Four  regi- 
ments of  infantry  belonging  to  Tilly's  veteran 
troops  had  withdrawn  in  good  order  from  the  field 
and  placed  themselves  in  the  way  of  the  pursuing 
Swedes.  The  kinsf  charsred  them  with  the  risfht 
wing,  Tott's  cavalry,  the  Smalanders,  and  Finns. 
It  was  a  hot  skirmish:  the  Wallachians  fought  des- 
perately; even  while  dying,  they  tried  to  pierce 
their  enemies'  horses  as  they  rode  over  them.  No 
quarter  was  asked,  and  none  granted.  At  length 
the  approaching  darkness  saved  the  remainder  of 
this  brave  force,  which  retreated  to  Leipzig*.  The 
battle  was  ended. 

The  results  of  this  victory  were  immeasurable. 
Gustaf  Adolf,  fearful  of  losing  them  through  some 
imprudence,  marshalled  his  troops  at  seven  o'clock 
in  the  evening  for  the  second  time,  and  made  them 
spend  the  night  in  order  of  battle.  But  first, 
the  king  rode  from  rank  to  rank,  to  thank  his 
brave  men. 


THE   KING'S  RING.  37 

"  Stalhandske,"  said  the  king,  when  he  came 
to  the  Finnish  lines,  "you  and  your  men  have  all 
fought  well,  as  I  expected  you  would  do.  I  thank 
you,  my  children!     I  am  proud  of  you." 

A  jubilant  ciieer  was  the  response  of  the  troops. 

"But,"  continued  the  king,  "there  was  one 
among  you  wiio  sprang  from  his  horse,  and,  fore- 
most of  all,  climbed  the  heights  to  take  the  Im- 
perialists' cannon.      Where  is  he?" 

A  young  horseman  rode  from  the  ranks. 

"  Pardon,  your  majesty,"  stammered  he.  "  I  did 
it  without  orders,  and  therefore  merit  death." 

The  king  smiled.     "Your  name?" 

"  Bertila." 

"From  East  Bothnia?" 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"Good.  To-morrow  morning,  at  seven  o'clock, 
you  may  present  yourself,  to  hear  your  doom." 

The  king  rode  on,  and  the  horseman  returned 
to  his  place. 

Night  broke  over  the  bloody  field,  covered  with 
nine  thousand  mutilated  corpses.  The  Finnish 
cavalry  bivouacked  on  the  heights  where  they  had 
taken  Tilly's  cannon.  The  debris  and  the  dead  were 
quickly  removed,  and  a  fire  of  broken  gun-carriages 
and  musket-stocks  spread  its  ruddy  glow  in  the  mild 
September  night.  The  sky  was  clear,  and  through 
the  thin  smoke  the  eternal  stars  looked  down  upon 
this  scene  of  carnage  and  strife. 

The  first  care  of  the  cavalry  was  to  give  their 
horses  oats,  and  to  water  them  at  the  Loder's 
muddy  banks.  Thereupon  they  had  encamped 
around  the  fires  upon  the  hillside,  each  man  in 
his  place,  fully  armed,  and  ready  to  spring  up  at 
the  first  alarm.  The  ground  was  slippery  with  dew 
and  blood,  but  the  fatigue  was  so  great  that  many  fell 


38  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

asleep  on  the  spot  where  they  had  thrown  them- 
selves down.  Others  kept  themselves  in  good  spirits 
with  food  and  drink;  they  had  a  good  stock  of  ale, 
and  let  the  tankard  pass  from  hand  to  hand,  as  far 
even  as  the  pickets,  so  long  as  there  was  a  drop 
left;  and  drank,  jokingly,  the  health  of  the  Im- 
perialists. 

"And  that  they  to-night  may  die  of  thirst!" 

"Or  drink  to  their  own  funeral!" 

"  Long  live  the  king!  " 

At  this  moment  was  heard,  quite  near  them, 
from  a  portion  of  the  field  dimly  lighted  by  the 
fire,  a  woful  voice,  pitifully  entreating  help.  The 
soldiers,  accustomed  to  such  things,  knew  by  the 
foreign  accent  that  the  man  was  no  comrade  of 
theirs,  and  gave  themselves  no  concern.  But  the 
piercing  shrieks  continued  incessantly. 

"  Pekka,  go  there  and  give  the  Austrian  dog 
a  final  thrust,"  cried  some  of  the  men,  who  felt 
annoyed  at  these  wailing  sounds. 

Pekka,  one  of  Bertila's  four  dragoons,  short  in 
stature,  but  strong  as  a  bear,  went  reluctantly  to 
stop  the  complainer's  mouth.  Superstitious,  like  all 
his  comrades,  he  was  not  quite  at  ease  among  the 
dead  on  a  dark  night.  Bertila,  absorbed  in  thoughts 
of  the  next  morning,  did  not  notice  this  disturb- 
ance. 

In  a  few  minutes  Pekka  came  back,  dragging 
with  him  a  dark  body,  which,  to  the  astonisliment 
of  all,  was  found  to  be  a  monk,  easily  recognizable 
by  his  tonsure.  Around  his  coarse  gown  he  wore 
a  rope  of  hemp,  but  to  the  rope  hung  the  scabbard 
of  a  long  sword. 

"A  monk!     A  Jesuit!  "  muttered  the  soldiers. 

"  Yes,  what  would  you  have  me  do?"  rejoined 


THE   KING'S  RING.  39 

Pekka,  in  perplexity.     "  When  I  raised  my  arm  to 
strike,  he  parried  tlie  blow  with  a  crucifix," 

"Slay  him!  He  is  one  of  the  Devil's  allies,  who 
steal  around  in  slieep's  clothing'  to  murder  kings 
and  burn  faithful  Christians  at  the  stake." 

"Down  with  him!  When  we  stormed  the 
heights,  this  same  man  stood  with  his  crucifix 
among  the  Imperialists,  and  fired  off  a  cannon." 

"Let's  see  whether  the  precious  object  is  of 
silver!"  exclaimed  one  of  the  soldiers;  and,  stick- 
\wrt  his  hand  inside  the  monk's  gown,  he  drew 
forth,  in  spite  of  his  resistance,  a  crucifix  oi  silver, 
richly  gilded. 

"  Just  as  I  thought.     Satan  has  plenty  of  gold." 

"Let  me  see  it,"  said  an  old  cavalryman.  "I 
know  something  about  monks'  tricks."  He  then 
examined  the  gilded  image  on  all  sides;  and, 
behold!  as  he  pressed  a  little  spring  in  its  breast, 
a  sharp-edged  dagger  sprang  from  it. 

As  if  stung  by  a  serpent,  the  soldier  flung  the 
crucifix  far  from  him.  Horror  and  disgust  had 
seized  upon  all  the  b\'standers. 

"Hang  the  viper  by  his  own  rope!"  cried  the 
soldiers. 

.  "  There  is  no  tree  here,"  objected  one,  "and  none 
are  allowed  to  leave  the  ranks." 

"  Drown  him! " 

"  There  is  no  water." 

"Club  him!" 

No  one  would  overcome  his  aversion  so  far  as 
to  touch  the  Jesuit. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  him?" 

'■'■Misericordia!  (r^iar^e.'' "  exclaimed  the  cap- 
tive, who,  hitherto  stunned  by  a  wound  in  the  head, 
began  to  regain  speech  and  strength. 


40  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"Give  him  a  kick,  and  let  him  2^0,"  proposed 
one.  "  We  are  Christian  soldiers,  and  fear  no  dev- 
iltry." 

"At  least  I  will  mark  you  first,  hi^^hly  reverend 
father,  that  we  may  know  you  if  we  meet  you 
again,"  joined  in  one  of  the  men,  a  Tavastlander 
bv  the  name  of  Witikka,  known  for  his  strenortli 
and  ferocitv;  and  lettins:  his  lono;'  sword  swing  sev- 
eral  times  around  the  Jesuit's  head,  he  cut  off, 
before  any  one  could  prevent  it,  both  his  ears  so 
skillfully  that  scarcely  a  hair  was  grazed.  "Saint 
Peter  could  not  have  done  it  better!"  exclaimed 
Witikka,  laughing. 

They  who  stood  nearest  turned  away.  Rude 
as  they  were,  and  accustomed  to  the  cruelty  of 
war,  they  considered  this  too  gross  a  joke. 

B.eeding,  the  Jesuit  crept  away  on  his  hands 
and  knees;  but  long  was  his  voice  heard  from  the 
surroundinsc  darkness  :  "  3Ialedicti  Fennones  ! 
rnalecUcti !  malecUcti  !  Vos  comhurat  ignis  sem- 
piternus!  "  * 

"  Our  Father  who  art  in  Heaven !  "  began  a 
voice  in  the  cavalry  ranks.  And  all  joined 
devoutly  in  the  prayer. 


CHAPTER     IT. 

THE  NOBLEMAN  WITHOUT  A  NAME. 

ON  the  morning   of  the   8th  of  September,  at 
daybreak,   the  whole    Swedish  camp  wms  in 
animation.     Victory  was   certain;    from   all   direc- 

*  Cursed  Finns !    May  the  eternal  Are  consume  you ! 


THE  KING'S  RING.  41 

tions  came  the  intelligence  of  the  total  rout  of  the 
Imperial  army.  The  kina^  sent  a  part  of  the 
cavalry  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy,  while  the 
remainder  of  the  troops  received  the  ag-reeable 
commission  to  plunder  Tilly's  camp,  which  was 
regularly  apportioned  among  them.  Great  was 
the  pillage;  many  here  became  rich  for  life.  All 
wa->  activity;  the  dead  were  tumbled  into  their 
graves  in  haste,  the  wounded  forgot  their  pains. 
In  the  clear  September  morning,  the  whole  broad 
plain  swarmed  with  jubilant  crowds  on  foot  and 
horseback;  and  here,  if  ever,  could  one  apply 
von  Beskow's  expression:  ' 

"The  air  was  cooled  b}^  flags  of  victory." 

The  king  had  passed  the  night  in  a  carriage. 
After  he  had  offered  prayer,  and  given  the  first 
orders  of  the  day,  he  sent  for  several  of  those  who 
had  most  distinguished  themselves  in  the  battle. 
Many  a  brave  deed  was  there  rewarded  with 
honor  and  promotion.  But  higher  than  any  other 
reward  was  their  own  inner  satisfaction,  and  the 
approval  of  the  hero  whom  all  Europe  had  now 
learned  to  admire. 

Among  those  summoned  before  the  king,  was  a 
young  man  who  plays  a  prominent  part  in  this 
story.  Gustaf  Bertila  was  only  twenty;  his  heart 
beat,  at  this  moment,  more  quickly  than  it  had 
done  during  the  heat  of  the  conflict.  It  is  true, 
he  expected  that  the  king's  magnanimity  would 
not  hold  him  blameworthy  for  disregarding  orders 
in  the  hurry  of  battle;  but  he  reddened  and  paled 
under  the  uncertainty  of  the  king's  purpose  in 
this  audience,  which  was  in  itself  so  arreat  a  dis- 
tinction. 

The  king's   tent   had  been  raised  under  one  of 
3* 


42  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

the  large  elms  at  Gross  Wetteritz;  for  all  the 
buildings  in  the  vicinity  were  partly  burned  down 
or  demolished,  by  friend  or  foe.  After  a  half- 
hour's  waiting,  Bertila  was  shown  into  the  tent. 
Gustaf  Adolf  sat  on  a  camp-stool,  with  his  arm 
resting  upon  a  table  covered  with  charts  and 
papers.  He  was  tall  and  well  built;  the  tight- 
fittins:  buff  coat  2,-ave  to  his  form  a  still  more 
portly  appearance.  When  Bertila  entered,  the 
king  raised  his  mild,  expressive  eyes  from  a  new- 
ly-signed order,  and  fixed  a  penetrating  glance 
upon  the  young  man.  Gustaf  Adolf  was  some- 
'  what  near-sighted;  a  certain  effort  to  recognize  a 
person,  especially  one  with  whom  he  was  but  little 
acquainted,  gave  his  look  a  sharpness,  which 
immediately  afterwards  disappeared. 

"Your  name  is  Bertila?"  said  the  king,  as  if 
to  assure  himself  that  he  had  yesterday  heard 
aright. 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"  Your  ao-e?  " 

"  Twenty  years." 

The  king  looked  at  him  with  a  doubtful  ex- 
pression. 

"His  son,  did  you  say  ?" 

The  voung  cavalier  bowed,  blushing. 

"  Strano-e!" 

The  king  uttered  this  word  as  if  unconsciously, 
and  seemed  thoughtful  for  a  moment;  then  he  re- 
sumed, with  animation: 

"  Why  have  you  not  announced  yourself  to  me 
before?  Your  father  has  rendered  my  father  and 
the  kingdom  great  services.  I  hope  he  is  still 
livino-." 

"  He -is  living,  and  grateful  for  your  majesty's 
goodness." 


THE  KING'S  RING.  43 

"Indeed!" 

This  word,  like  the  former,  resembled  rather  a 
secret  thoujjht  than  a  question  to  the  hearer.  The 
youniy-  Bertila  felt  the  blood  rising  more  and  more 
to  his  cheeks,  and  the   king  perceived  it. 

"  Your  father  and  I  were  once  at  variance," 
added  the  king,  with  a  smile  on  his  lips,  while  a 
slight  cloud  shadowed  his  brow.  "  Still,"  contin- 
ued he,  "  all  this  is  long  since  forgotten,  and  I  am 
glad  to  find  that  such  a  deserving  man  has  such  a 
brave  son.  You  were  with  the  seventy  Finns  at 
Demmin?" 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"And  you  have  not  been  mentioned  for  pro- 
motion ?  " 

"  My  commander  has  promised  to  bear  me  in 
mind." 

"  Your  kino-  never  foro-ets  a  faithful  service. 
Gustaf  Bertila,  I  have  just  issued  your  com  mis- 
sion as  ensign.  Take  it,  and  continue  to  serve 
with  honor.'' 

"  Your  majesty  !  "  stammered  the  young  cava- 
lier. 

"I  have  yet  a  word  to  say  to  you.  Your  con- 
duct yesterday  was  contrary  to  orders." 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"  I  desire  my  soldiers  to  obey  scrupulously.  I 
am  told,  however,  that  you  sprang  from  your 
horse  at  the  foot  of  the  steepest  hill,  in  order  to 
get  up  more  quickly." 

"  That  is  true,  your  majesty." 

"  And  that  you,  therefore,  while  the  rest  of  the 
cavalry  made  a  detour,  arrived  first  on  the  hill,  cut 
down  two  Austrians,  and  took  the  first  cannon." 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"That  is  well.     Ensign  Bertila,  I  pardon  your 


44  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

disregard  of  orders,  and  appoint  you  lieutenant  in 
my  Finnish  cavalry." 

The  young  officer  lacked  words. 

The  king  himself  was  moved.  "  Come  nearer, 
young  man,"  said  he.  "  You  ought  to  know  that 
once,  in  my.  youth,  I  did  your  father  a  great  wrong. 
Heaven,  knowing  my  repentance,  has  at  length 
sent  me  an  opportunity  of  making  amends  to  the 
son  for  the  Hvrona;  done  to  the  father.  Lieutenant 
Bertila,  you  are  brave  and  noble;  you  have  re- 
ceived a  military  education.  You  have  also 
brought  into  my  service  four  fully-equipped 
horsemen.  As  an  officer  under  my  command,  you 
are  already  a  nobleman's  equal.  But  in  order  that 
none  of  my  officers,  of  however  high  birth,  may 
consider  you,  a  peasant's  son,  beneath  them  in 
standing,   1  will   give  you  a  name,  a  coat  of  arms, 

and  a  knight's  spur.     Go,  young  man go, 

my  son,"  repeated  the  king,  with  inexplicable 
emotion,  "and  show  yourself  worthy  your  king's 
favor." 

"  Unto  death  !  "  And,  overpowered  by  his 
feelings,  the  young  warrior  bent  a  knee  before 
Tilly's  conqueror. 

The  king  rose.  The  emotion  which  for  a 
moment  was  reflected  upon  his  manly  and  hand- 
some face,  quickly  gave  place  to  the  majesty  of 
the  monarch  and  the  commanding  expression  of 
the  great  conqueror.  The  young  Bertila  under- 
stood that  the  audience  was  ended. 

Yet  he  still  remained  in  his  kneeling  position, 
and  handed  the  king  a  letter,  which,  until  that 
morning,  he  had  worn  sewed  in  his  coat. 

"  Deign  to  read  this  letter,  your  majesty! 
When,  before  I  entered  the  field,  I  bade  farewell 
to  my  old  father,  he  presented  me  this,  and  said: 


THE  KING'S  RING.  45 

'My  son,  go;  try  to  deserve  your  king's  grace 
through  faithfulness  and  manly  courage.  And  if 
you  succeed  in  one  day  winning  his  favor  on  your 
ovpn  account,  and  not  merely  because  of  your  fath- 
er's name,  then  give  him  this  letter  and  tell  him 
that  it  is  rhy  testament.  His  great  heart  will 
understand  what  I  mean.'  " 

The  king  took  the  letter,  broke  the  seal,  and 
read.  His  features  betrayed  an  intense  but  sup- 
pressed emotion;  the  violent  dark  flush,  often  in 
later  years  the  only  witness  of  the  struggles  of  a 
soul  which  knew  how  to  govern  itself,  rose  like  a 
slight  cloud  to  the  king's  brow,  crimsoned  it  a 
moment,  and  then  disappeared  again,  leaving  no 
trace.  When  he  had  finished  the  perusal,  his  eyes 
rested  thoughtfully  on  the  handsome  fair  young 
man,  who  still  knelt  at  his  feet. 

"  Rise!  "  said  he,  finally. 

Bertila  did  so. 

"  Do  vou  know  the  contents  of  this  letter?" 

"  No,  your  majesty." 

The  king  eyed  him  sharply,  and  seemed  satis- 
fied with  the  honest  and  frank  expression  in  the 
youth's  face. 

"  Your  father,  young  man,"  continued  he,  after 
a  short  pause,  "  your  father  is  a  singular  person. 
He  has  hated  the  nobility  ever  since  the  days  of 
the  Club  War,  wlien  he  fought  many  hard  battles 
at  the  head  of  the  peasants,  and  when  the  Flem- 
niing  cavalry  quartered  themselves  so  rudely  at  his 
house.  He  forbids  you  ever  to  accept  a  noble  name 
and  escutcheon,  if  you  wish  to  escape  his  paternal 
curse." 

Bertila  did  not  answer.  A  bolt  from  a  clear 
sky  had  descended  upon  his  young  happiness;  all 


46  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

his  ambitious  dreams  of  a  coat  of  arms  and  a 
kniglit's  spur  were  at  once  annihilated. 

"  A  father's  will  must  be  obeyed,"  continued 
the  king,  with  earnestness.  "  The  noble  name  I 
intended  to  confer  on  you,  you  can  not  bear. 
Calm  yourself,  my  young  friend;  you  retain  your 
sword  and  your  lieutenant's  rank;  with  them,  and 
your  brave  arm,  the  path  of  honor  will  always 
stand  open  to  you." 

And,  at  a  sign  from  the  king,  the  young  sol- 
dier withdrew. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

LADY    REGINA. 

IT  was  three  or  four  weeks  after  the  battle  of 
Breitenfeld,  when,  one  chilly  October  day,  the 
beautiful  Regina  von  Emmeritz,  niece  of  the 
bishop,  sat  in  a  room  in  one  of  the  turrets  of  the 
castle  at  Wiirtzburg,  in  company  with  three  or  four 
of  her  maidens,  engaged  in  embroidering  a  picture 
of  the  Virgin  Mary  on  a  banner  of  white  satin, 
intended  to  be  presented,  in  token  of  their  victo- 
ries, to  the  garrison  of  the  castle.  The  young 
girls  were  indulging  in  a  lively  conversation;  for 
the  master  of  the  castle,  the  avaricious  old  bishop, 
had  just  started  off,  as  he  pretended,  on  a  journey 
through  the  diocese,  but,  in  reality,  to  escape  Gus- 
taf  Adolf's  approaching  hosts.  Fearing  for  his 
treasures,  he  had  previously  intrusted  the  defense 
of  the  town  and  castle  to  the  bold  cavalry  com- 
mander, Keller,   with    fifteen    hundred   men;    and 


THE   KING'S  RING.  47 


Keller,  relying  upon  the  castle's  impregnable  posi- 
tion on  the  banks  of  the  Main,  had  assured  his 
reverence  that  sooner  should  the  heretic  king 
crush  his  head  against  those  walls  than  any  of  his 
godless  followers  gain  an  entrance. 

The  beautiful  Kegina  was  scarcely  sixteen ;  she 
had  locks  dark  as  night,  cheeks  fresh  as  the  dawn, 
and  a  pair  of  black  eyes,  deeply  shining,  like  two 
stars  which  at  midnight  mirror  themselves  in  a 
lojiely  lake.  She  was  the  old  bishop's  idol;  he  had 
left  her  as  unwillingly  as  his  treasures  in  the  for- 
tress. But  Keller  had  assured  him  that  solid  walls, 
bristling  with  cannon,  were,  in  such  unquiet  times, 
the  best  security  for  beauty;  and  Keller  was  a 
knight  of  faith  and  honor:  with  such  a  precious 
charge  he  would  rather  bury  himself  under  the 
ruins  of  the  castle  than  surrender. 

Lady  Regina  raised  her  dark  eyes  from  the 
embroidery  and  looked  out  through  the  little  tur- 
ret-window over  the  river,  where  a  carriage, 
escorted  by  some  horsemen,  was  crossing  the 
bridge  from  the  town  to  the  castle. 

"Who  can  the  traveler  be?"  exclaimed  she, 
with  the  rapt  look  which  she  rarely  bestowed  upon 
any  object  save  the  large  and  beautiful  marble 
figure  of  the  Madonna,  in  her  sanctuary. 

"  Ah,"  exclaimed  Kiitchen,  the  youngest  and 
most  talkative  of  the  maidens,  "ah,  Holy  Virgin! 
how  delightful  it  is  to  live  in  war  times!  Every 
day  new  faces,  fine  cavaliers,  brave  young  squires, 
and  now  and  then  a  jolly  trip  to  town.  It  is  quite 
a  different  thing  from  sitting  here,  shut  up  in  a 
cloister,  and  hearing  the  monks  chant  De  Profun- 
dis  from  morning  till  night.  Yes,"  continued  she, 
saucily,  "  may  his  grace,  the  bishop,  only  stay  away 
a  good  long  while!  " 


48  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"  Kiitchen,"  eluded  Reo-ina,  "  take  care  not  to 
speak  ill  of  the  monks'  masses!  Remember  that 
our  confessor,  Father  Hieronymus,  is  a  member  of 
the  holy  Inquisition,  and  that  the  castle  prison  is 
both  deep  and  dark." 

Kiitchen  became  mute  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
answered,  boldly: 

"  Were  I  in  your  place,  my  lady,  I  would 
rather  think  of  the  handsome  Count  of  Ijichten- 
stein  than  of  that  odious  Father  Hieronymus.  He 
is  a  fine  chevalier;  God  grant  that  he  may  return 
victorious  from  the  war  ao-ainst  the  heretics!  " 

"  And  that  they  may  all  be  exterminated  with 
fire  and  sword!  "  joined  in  one  of  the  maidens,  with 
pious  fervor. 

"  Poor  heretics!  "  exclaimed  Katchen,  smiling. 

"Take  care!"  repeated  Lady  Regina,  with 
naive  seriousness.  "A  heretic  deserves  no  mercy. 
One  who  kills  a  heretic  has  seven  sins  pardoned; 
so  Father  Hieronymus  has  often  told  me.  To  hate 
the  heretics  is  the  eio-hth  sacrament,  and  to  love  a 
single  one  of  them  is  to  consign  your  soul  to  the 
abyss." 

As  she  spoke,  Regina's  black  eyes  flashed. 
One  could  see  that  the  reverend  father's  teachino-s 
had  taken  deep  root  in  her  soul. 

Katchen  did  not  lose  courage. 

"  It  is  said  that  their  king  is  mild  and  noble, 
that  he  shelters  all  the  defenseless,  and  allows  no 
excesses  in  his  soldiers." 

"  Satan  often  disg-uises  himself  in  an  anarel's 
shape." 

"  They  say  that  his  men  are  brave  and  humane. 
I,  myself,  heard  an  old  Italian  soldier  describe  to 
the  garrison  at  the  armory  how  seventy  men,  of  a 
heretic  people  called  Finns,  for  more  than  an  hour 


THE  KING'S  RING.  49 


defended  their  kino-  ao-ainst  fifteen  hundred  Nea- 
politans.  And  when  most  of  the  heretics  had 
fallen,  the  rest  gained  assistance  and  at  last  tri- 
umphed; but  afterwards  they  bound  np  the 
wounds  of  their  enemies,  no  less  than  of  their 
comrades." 

Lady  Regina  rose,  and  was  about  to  give  a  stern 
answer,  when  at  that  instant  a  servant  appeared  at 
the  door,  and  announced  that  the  Count  of  Lich- 
tenstein,  sick  and  wounded,  had  arrived  at  the  castle 
and  asked  hospitality.  The  young  Regina,  who,  as 
the  bishop's  niece,  was  to  be  regarded  as  the  mis- 
tress of  the  castle  during  his  absence,  immediately 
hastened  down  to  welcome  the  new  guest,  who  was 
a  distant  relative  of  hers. 

The  maidens  exchanged  glances,  as  if  they  consid- 
ered this  event  especially  significant.  It  had  long 
been  whispered  among  them,  that  the  old  bishop 
had  chosen  the  count  as  the  future  spouse  of  the 
young  lady;  but  in  vain  had  they  tried  to  discover 
a  blush  on  her  cheeks  at  the  news  of  his  comino-. 
If  Lady  Regina  cherished  any  tenderer  feeling,  she 
at  least  knew  how  to  conceal  it. 

"Is  it  true,"  said  one  of  the  maidens,  "that  the 
heretic  king  has  won  a  great  victory  over  the  true 
believers,  and  is  approaching  this  place  with  his 
godless  army?" 

"  So  it  is  said,"  answered  another.  "  But  he  can 
not  come  here.  Our  people  have  erected  an  image 
of  the  Swedish  saint  Brigitta  in  his  way,  in  Thur- 
ingen  Forest;  and  she  will  know  how  to  check  his 
progress." 

In  the  meantime,  Lady  Regina  had  one  of  the 

bishop's  own  rooms  put  in  order  for  her  guest,  and 

provided  in  every  way  for  his  comfort.     The  young 

Count  of   Lichtenstein  was  a   proud   and    stately 

D  3 


50  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

youth,  dark  as  a  Spaniard,  and  with  eyes  almost  as 
flashing  as  Reg-ina's.  He  approached  his  beautiful 
hostess  with  faltering-  steps,  and  yet  with  looks  be- 
fore which  Regina  cast  down  her  eyes. 

"  How  grateful  am  I  not  to  Heaven,"  said  he, 
"for  these  wounds,  which  have  procured  me  the 
happiness  of  having  so  beautiful  a  nurse! " 

The  count's  wounds  were  many,  but  not  dan- 
gerous. Taken  prisoner  at  Breitenfeld,  he  had 
shortly  afterwards,  still  weak  from  his  wounds, 
been  exchanged,  and  immediately  hastened  here, 
to  regain  health  and  strength  in  the  neighborhood 
of  his  heart's  mistress. 

"  But,"  added  he,  after  this  account,  "I  learned 
with  great  uneasiness  that  the  enemy,  eager  for 
prey,  was  rolling  its  masses  hither  like  a  devastat- 
ing flood,  to  the  rich  valleys  of  Franconia.  All  the 
more  quickly  did  I  hurry  to  you,  beautiful  Regina, 
to  share  your  vicissitudes  and  dangers.  Be  calm! 
KOnigshofen  will  make  a  stand  against  them;  and 
Father  Hieronymus,  who,  wounded  like  me,  escaped 
from  Breitenfeld,  is  stirring  the  country  people  to 
resistance  all  along  the  enemy's  route." 

"And  so  you  think,"  replied  Regina,  anxiously, 
"  that  those  godless  heretics  will  venture  so  far  as 
this?" 

"The  protection  of  the  saints  will  be  with 
beauty,"  answered  the  count,  evasively.  "Be- 
sides, we  will  soon  receive  more  trusty  news." 

At  these  words,  Regina  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow, and  saw  a  troop  of  horsemen  hurrying  at  full 
speed  toward  the  castle. 

"I  am  not  mistaken,"  exclaimed  she;  "there  is 
Father  Hieronymus  himself  !  " 

"  Bad  omen!  "  muttered  the  count,  between  his 
teeth. 


THE  KING'S  RING.  51 

Lady  Regina  had  seen  aright;  it  was  Father 
Hieroiiymus  who  at  that  moment  rode  over  the 
drawbridge.  In  appearance,  the  father  was  a 
little  unpretending  man,  pale  and  thin,  with  sharp 
energetic  features,  and  deep-set  hollow  eyes,  whose 
restless  glance  flew  spyingly  from  one  object  to 
another.  Around  the  waist  of  his  black  gown  he 
wore  a  rope  of  hemp,  from  which  hung  a  long 
sword.  But  no  longer  did  the  tonsure  gleam  from 
the  top  of  his  crown.  Wounded  in  the  head,  he 
wore  over  it  a  sort  of  skull-cap,  or  calotte  of 
leather,  whose  black  color  made  a  ghastly  con- 
trast with  his  corpse-like  face.  Never  had  the 
dreaded  Jesuit  shown  himself  in  such  repulsive 
form.  All  the  soldiers  presented  arms;  all  the 
servants  of  the  castle  hastened  to  receive  his  com- 
mands. A  secret  anxiet}-  took  possession  of  all  the 
bystanders.  It  was  as  though  death  and  disaster 
had  in  his  person  ridden  through  the  portals  of 
Castle  Wiirtzburg. 

The  monk  surveyed,  with  a  hasty  glance,  the 
garrison  drawn  up  in  the  court-yard,  and  then 
greeted  Lady  Regina  with  a  smile,  which  was 
probably  intended  to  modify  the  repulsiveness  of 
his  aspect,  but  which  only  made  it  still  more  hid- 
eous. 

"Saint  Patrick  and  all  the  saints  protect  you, 
gracious  lady!  The  times  are  very  bad,  very  bad! 
The  Holy  Virgin  has  permitted  the  heathen  to  pene- 
trate to  our  very  gates  ...  on  account  of  our 
sins,"  added  he,  crossing  himself  devoutly. 

"And  Konigshofen?"  inquired  Count  Fritz,  who 
divined  the  answer. 

"  The  faithless  commander  has  surrendered." 

"But  the  peasants,  who  were  to  oppose  the 
enemy's  march  through  the  forest  ?  " 


52  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"All  are  scattered  like  chaif  ...  on  account 
of  our  sins." 

"And  the  holy  Brigitta's  image?" 

"  The  godless  heretics  have  placed  it  as  a  scare- 
crow in  a  grain-field.  But,"  continued  the  father 
— and  his  voice  acquired  a  commanding  sharpness 
— "what  is  this  I  see,  my  daughter?  You  are  still 
here,  and  the  castle  is  filled  with  women  and  chil- 
dren, while  the  enemy  is  every  instant  expected  at 
our  gates  ?  " 

"  Lady  Regina  shall  never  lack  protection  so 
long  as  this  arm  is  able  to  wield  a  sword,"  inter- 
posed Count  Fritz. 

"  The  castle  is  provisioned  for  a  whole  year," 
said  Regina,  timidly.  "  But,  worthy  father,  you  are 
fatigued;  you  are  wounded,  and  need  rest.  Let  me 
dress  your  wounds;  you  are  injured  in  the  head!  " 

"A  trifle,  my  daughter,  a  mere  nothing.  Who 
now  should  think  of  me?  You  must  go  instantly 
.     .     .    to  the  stronghold  of  Aschaflfenburg." 

"I  fear  it  is  too  late,"  exclaimed  Count  Fritz, 
who  was  looking  out  upon  the  river  and  town. 

"Holy  Mary!  are  they  here  already?" 

The  .Jesuit  and  Lady  Regina  flew  to  the  win- 
dow. The  afternoon  sun  cast  its  last  rays  over 
Wiirtzburg  and  the  surrounding  country.  Horse- 
men were  seen  riding  at  full  speed  through  the 
streets,  and  a  large  crowd  of  fleeing  inhabitants 
were  already  moving  toward  the  castle:  monks 
and  nuns,  women  and  children,  who  hurriedly 
dragged  with  them  hand-carts  loaded  with  their 
valuables.  Beyond  the  town,  in  the  direction  of 
Schweinfurt,  on  the  east  side  of  the  Main,  ap- 
peared a  troop  of  cavalry,  from  whose  threatening 
but  cautious  advance  one  could  without  difficulty 
recognize  the  vanguard  of  the  Swedish  army. 


THE  KING'S  RING.  53 

"  Maledicti  Fennones  !  "  burst  out  the  Jesuit, 
with  an  indescribable  expression  of  hate  on  his 
pale  countenance.  "  These  heretics  have  wings! 
May  the  earth  swallow  them!  "  And  he  hurried 
out  with  fanatic  zeal,  to  place  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  defenders  of  the  castle. 

The  bishop's  castle,  also  called  Marienburg, 
raises  its  old  walls  from  a  height  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Main.  Toward  the  river  side  of  the  town 
the  heights  are  steep  and  rocky,  but  on  the  opposite 
side  sloping  and  easily  accessible.  A  ratnpart, 
crescent-shaped,  formed  a  strong  outwork  before 
the  gates;  if  the  enemy  overcame  this  obstacle,  a 
deep  moat,  cut  in  the  rock,  awaited  him  on  the 
other  side;  and  should  he  succeed  in  crossing  this, 
then  he  would  find  in  his  way  the  inner  and  high- 
est castle-wall,  swarming  with  iron-clad  warriors, 
ready  to  shoot  down  with  their  heavy  muskets  all 
who  approached;  or,  if  he  came  nearer,  to  cut  him 
down  with  their  long  halberds,  or  crush  him  with 
the  large  stones  collected  on  the  walls.  When  we 
add  to  this,  that  the  only  passage  over  the  river 
was  a  narrow  bridge,  and  that  the  castle's  forty- 
eight  cannon  commanded  the  whole  town  and  the 
region  far  around,  it  will  be  seen  that  Keller,  at 
the  head  of  fifteen  hundred  brave  men,  and  richly 
provided  with  all  necessaries,  had  good  grounds 
for  bidding  the  departing  bishop  to  be  of  good 
cheer. 

But  Gustaf  Adolf  had  also  an  important 
reason  for  making  himself  master  of  this  fortress, 
cost  what  it  would.  Tilly  had  drawn  reinforce- 
ments from  all  directions;  and,  a  few  weeks  after 
the  battle  of  Breitenfeld,  fully  prepared,  and 
eager  for  revenge,  was  on  the  march  from  Hessen, 
with  thirty  thousand  men  to  assist  Wiirtzburg. 


54  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF.  > 

The  king  challenged  the  town,  and  forced  an 
entrance  into  the  suburbs;  but  it  was  already 
late  in  the  evening,  and  the  attack  had  to  be  post- 
poned The  next  morning  the  town  surrendered. 
But  Keller  had  profited  by  the  darkness  of  the 
night  to  transfer  his  whole  force,  a  large  number 
of  fugitives,  and  the  portable  property  of  the 
town,  to  the  castle,  after  which  he  blew  up  two 
arches  of  the  bridge  across  the  Main,  and  thus 
blocked  the  enemy's  way. 

But  to  return  to  the  fortress. 

That  nigrht  none  but  the  little  children  had 
slept  in  the  bishop's  castle.  New  crowds  of 
soldiers,  monks  and  women  were  constantly 
arriving: ;  one  bao-o-ao^e-wagon  after  another 
rattled  in  through  the  castle  gates;  the  echo  of 
the  archways  repeated  the  cries  of  the  sentinels, 
the  commands  of  the  officers,  and  the  weeping  of 
the  children ;  and  in  the  midst  of  all  this  noise 
and  confusion,  were  plainly  heard  the  masses  of 
the  monks,  who  in  the  chapel  invoked  the  protec- 
tion of  the  Holy  Virgin  and  all  the  saints  in 
behalf  of  the  threatened  fortress,  the  strongest 
Catholic  bulwark  in  all  Franconia. 

To  make  room  for  all  the  fleeing  crowds.  Lady 
Regina  had  not  only  thrown  open  the  bishop's 
private  apartments,  but  also  the  two  magnificent 
rooms  set  apart  for  her  own  use  in  the  interior  of 
the  castle,  and,  with  her  maids,  moved  up  into  the 
small  chambers  in  the  east  turret.  In  vain  was  it 
represented  to  her  that  this  point  was  exposed  to 
the  enemy's  fire.  She  had  here  the  best  and  most 
extensive  prospect  in  the  whole  castle,  and  this 
position  she  was  not  willing  to  exchange. 

"  Hinder    me   not  !  "  said  she  to  the   warning 


THE  KING'S  RING.  55 

Jesuit.  "  I  wish  to  see  the  heretics  bleed  and  fall 
before  our  cannon.     It  will  be  a  glorious  sight." 

"Amen  !"  answered  Father  Hieronymus.  "  You 
know,  my  daughter,  that  this  castle  is  protected 
by  two  miraculous  images  of  the  Virgin,  one  of 
pure  gold,  the  other  of  gilded  wood.  1  will  hang 
up  the  latter  in  your  room;  it  will  avert  the 
enemy's  bullets,  like  so  many  puff-balls,  from  your 
turret," 

At  daybreak,  Lady  Regina  was  on  the  look- 
out at  her  little  turret-window.  It  was  a  glorious 
siofht,  as  the  sun  rose  over  the  autumn  hills,  with 
their  still  verdant  vineyards,  among  which  the 
river  Main  wound  like  a  band  of  silver  and  gold, 
glittering  in  the  morning  sunlight.  Yonder  in 
the  town  all  was  activity:  four  Swedish  infantry 
regiments  marched  in  with  flags  flying  and  bands 
playing;  their  armor  shone  in  the  sunlight,  and 
the  officers'  plumes  waved  in  the  wind.  At  this 
sight,  the  hearts  of  the  young  girls  alternated 
between  emotions  of  fear  and  curiosity. 

"  Do  you  see,"  said  Lady  Regina  to  Kjitchen, 
"the  two  horsemen  in  the  yellow  jackets,  who 
ride  at  the  head  of  the  heretic  troop  ?" 

"  What  a  fine  bearing  they  have  !  Now  they 
turn  round  a  street  corner  ....  there  they 
are  again.     See  how  all  make  way  for  them!  " 

"  Send  for  Count  Fritz.  He  has  been  in  the 
Swedish  camp  more  than  two  weeks,  and  knows 
all  their  chief  men." 

The  count,  w4io  was  prevented  by  his  wounds 
from  taking  part  in  the  defense  of  the  castle, 
willingly  obeyed  the  beautiful  Regina's  call. 

In  the  meantime  the  Swedes  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  the  town,  and  began  to  show  themselves  in 


56  TIMES  OF  GUST  A  F  ADOLF 

scattered  groups  at  the  shore  and  by  the  exploded 
bridge.  At  that  instant  the  castle  cannon  opened 
fire.  Now  here,  now  tliere,  a  ball  fell  among  the 
Swedes,  who  sought  shelter  as  well  as  they  could 
behind  the  houses  by  the  river. 

"  Holy  Mary!  a  man  falls!  He  rises  no  more!" 
exclaimed  Kiitchen,  unable  to  conceal  her  com- 
passion. 

"  Saint  Francis  be  praised,  there  is  one  heretic 
less  in  the  world!"  rejoined  old  Dorthe,  Lady 
Regina's  duenna,  who  was  appointed  by  Father 
Hieronymus  to  watch  all  her  steps. 

"  But  it  is  terrible  to  shoot  down  a  human 
being!  " 

Count  Fritz  smiled. 

"  You  should  have  seen  the  battle-field  at 
Breitenfeld!     Nine  thousand  killed!" 

"  It  is  horrifying!  " 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  count,  who  those  horsemen 
are,  who,  in  the  midst  of  the  shower  of  balls,  keep 
by  the  bank,  and  seem  to  be  examining  the  situa- 
tion of  the  castle?" 

"Pardon  me,  my  beautiful  cousin;  the  smoke 
begins  to  obscure  the  view.  Those  horsemen  .  . 
upon  my  honor,  it  is  the  king  himself  and  the 
Count  Per  Brahe.  I  pity  them,  if  Father  Hierony- 
mus recognizes  them.  He  would  then  direct  all 
the  cannon  of  the  castle  toward  this  one  point." 

At  these  words,  old  Dorthe  stole  from  the 
room . 

"How  is  that,  my  cousin?  You  pity  the  heretic 
prince?" 

"Why  do  your  eyes  flash  so  darkly,  beautiful 
Reofina,  at  these  words?  You,  so  noble  and  tender- 
hearted,  do  you  not  understand  that  one  can  feel 
compassion  for  a  brave  and  chivalrous  enemy?   The 


THE  KING'S  RING.  57 

kin^  of  Sweden  is  a  hero,  worthy  our  admiration  in 
as  high  a  degree  as  our  hatred." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you.     A  heretic!  " 

"Heaven  prevent  you  from  one  day  seeing  him 
within  these  walls!  you  would  then  understand  me 
better.  .  .  .  Ha!  they  are  preparing  to  storm  the 
bridge  .  .  .  they  throw  planks  over  the  bare 
arches.     Heavens!  that  is  darinor!  " 

"There  fell  four  at  once!"  screamed  Katchen. 

"I  know  them,"  exclaimed  Count  Fritz,  more 
and  more  excited  by  the  tumult  of  strife  and  the 
increasing  cannonade,  which  caused  the-castle  walls 
to  tremble.  "I  know  them;  they  are  the  Scots. 
There  are  no  braver  troops  to  be  found  in  the 
whole  Swedish  army;  the'  Scots  and  the  Finns  are 
always  first  where  the  danger  is  greatest." 

"Ah,  my  cousin,  do  you  see  your  Scots  draw 
back?     They  dare  not  take  the  dangerous  leap." 

"  That  requires  more  than  human  courage. 
Twenty-four  feet  below  the  narrow  plank  roars 
the  flood." 

"  Two  slender  officers  spring  out  on  the  plank." 

"  They  are  the  brothers  Ramsay,  both  quite 
young.  I  know  them  by  their  blue  scarfs.  They 
both  love  the  same  lady;  and  both  wear  her  colors, 
without  therefore  loving-  each  other  the  less." 

"O  Heaven,  protect  them!  .  .  .  Ah,  Holy 
Mary,  this  is  frightful!  "  And  Katchen  hid  her  face 
in  her  apron.  The  intrepid  Scots  had  not  reached 
the  middle  of  the  plank  before  they  were  seen  to 
reel,  lose  their  balance,  and  fall  headlong  into  the 
river.  For  a  moment  they  struggled  with  the 
waves,  but,  pierced  by  the  enemy's  bullets,  they 
felt  their  strength  fail  them;  the  heavy  armor  drew 
them  down.  A  second  more,  and  these  cliivalric 
youths  disappeared  beneath  the  surface. 


58  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

*'You  rejoiced  a  while  ago  at  war,"  said  Lady 
Regina,  with  a  calmness  which  was  contradicted  by 
her  loudly  beating  heart. 

"Ah,  yes,  at  the  handsome  cavaliers — at  the 
music  and  the  banquets — but  not  at  this! "  ex- 
claimed Katchen,  weeping, 

"The  Scots  turn  back!"  cried  one  of  the 
maidens, 

"  Yes,"  said  the  count,  hesitatingly;  "but  the 
Swedes  are  beo-innino-  to  cross  the  river  in  boats." 

"  The  Scots  again  try  the  planks." 

"Just  as  I  expected,"  answered  the  count, 
coldly, 

"  Heaven  help  us!  They  come  over;  they  take 
their  stand  on  this  side.    Our  men  attack  them," 

"  Take  care,  Lady  Regina,  do  not  lean  so  far 
out  of  the  window.  The  Svvedes  direct  their  artil- 
lery toward  the  turret," 

"Are  you  afraid,  count?"  Regina  smiled  as 
she  uttered  these  words, 

Lichtenstein  colored. 

"  I  believe  I  have  sufficiently  proven  the  con- 
trary. Listen,  and  you  will  every  other  minute  dis- 
tinguish a  whizzing,  whose  cause  you  do  not  know, 
and  a  rattling,  as  of  pebbles,  I  will  tell  you  what 
it  is.  It  is  cannon-balls,  my  lady;  you  would  un- 
derstand their  music  better  did  not  the  noise  out 
there  deafen  you.  For  the  last  half-hour  they  have 
torn  piece  after  piece  from  the  walls  of  the  turret, 
and  almost  always  at  the  same  point.  They  are  not 
sugar-plums,  my  cousin.  These  Swedes  have 
learned  their  art  from  the  wild  huntsman  himself." 

"  Do  you  actually  believe    ..." 

"That  the  Swedes  intend  to  shoot  down  this 
turret,  in  order  to  fill  the  castle-moat  with  its  ruins? 
Yes,  my  cousin,  and  I  believe  they  will  succeed. 


THE  KING'S  RING.  59 

You  are  not  safe  here  for  an  instant;  you  must  go 
away." 

"  Directly,  gracious  count,  directly!  Come,  my 
lady,"  exclaimed  Katchen,  trying  with  friendly 
force  to  take  her  young  mistress  with  her.  But 
Regina  was  in  an  excited  frame  of  mind.  The 
habit  of  commanding,  and  perhaps  still  more  the 
willfulness  which  lay  at  the  bottom  of  this  strangely 
contradictory  character,  was  blended  with  the  burn- 
ins^  fanaticism  which  the  Jesuit  had  so  well  under- 
stood  how  to  inspire  in  her  from  childhood.  .  .  . 
She  took  a  step  back,  seized  the  gilded  image  of  the 
Viro;in,  which  Father  Hieronvmus  had  sent  for  her 
protection,  and  placed  it  before  her  on  the  window- 
sill. 

"Go!  "  said  she,  "if  you  are  so  weak  in  the  faith 
as  to  doubt  the  protection  of  the  saints.  I  remain 
here,  and  the  heretics'  bullets  will  avail  nothing 
aofainst    ..." 

Lady  Regina  had  not  time  to  finish  the  sentence 
before  a  ball  struck  the  wall  at  an  oblique  angle, 
loosening  a  piece  of  the  outer  edge  of  the  facing. 
A  shower  of  stones  and  mortar  swept  in  through 
the  window,  knocking  down  the  image  of  the  Vir- 
gin, and  covering  Lady  Regina  with  dust. 

"Away  from  here!      You  now  see  for  yourself !  " 
exclaimed  the  count. 

"Let  us  go!  "  repeated  the  maidens,  beside  them- 
selves with  terror. 

But  Regina,  for  a  moment  confused,  regained 
her  self-possession  immediately,  bent  down  to  pick 
up  the  image,  and  said  confidently: 

"  They  will  avail  nothing  against  the  Holy 
Virgin." 

She  was  mistaken.  The  Holy  Virgin  of  wood 
had  broken   into  three  or   four   pieces.       On    the 


60  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

count's  lips  played  a  satirical  smile  of  unbelief,  as 
he  led  his  terror-stricken  cousin  unresistingly  from 
the  dangerous  room. 

While  these  events  were  going  on  in  the  turret, 
Keller  had  quickly  and  intelligently  arranged  the 
castle's  defense.  He  could  not  hinder  the  Swedes 
from  crossing  the  i-iver,  but  every  step  nearer  the 
castle  brouo-ht  them  also  nearer  his  cannon.  Ter- 
ribly  did  they  decimate  the  ranks  of  the  brave  as- 
sailants. That  whole  day  the  Swedes  could  accom- 
plish nothing. 

Father  Hieronymus  and  his  monks  moved 
around  on  the  walls,  sprinkled  the  cannon  with 
holy  water,  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  over 
them.  The  old  Dorthe  had  whispered  something 
in  his  ear,  and  the  Jesuit's  whole  attention  was 
turned  toward  the  spot  where  the  two  horsemen  in 
buff  jackets  had  just  been  seen.  The  reverend 
father  now  undertook  himself  to  direct  one  of  the 
castle's  heaviest  cannon  toward  this  point;  but,  be- 
fore he  fired  it  off,  he  fell  on  his  knees  and  repeated 
four  pater  nosters  and  four  ave  Jf arias.  Then  thun- 
dered the  discharge;  but  in  vain  did  the  Jesuit  seek 
to  discover  any  effect  from  it.  Unharmed,  immov- 
able as  before,  the  figures  of  the  two  horsemen 
were  seen  throuo-h  the  dissolvins;  smoke.  Hier- 
onymus  now  supposed  that  four  paters  and  four 
aves  were  too  little,  and  accordingly  repeated  eight 
of  each  kind,  after  which  he  let  the  cannon  thunder 
for  the  second  time.  Impossible!  The  balls  seemed 
to  avoid  the  chosen  victims.  Not  vet  had  Provi- 
dence  appointed  Gustaf  Adolf's  death-hour;  and 
Per  Brahe  was  to  be  spared  for  Finland.  Who 
can  calculate  what  would  have  become  of  Sweden's 
victories  and  Finland's  civilization  if  the  Jesuit's 
murderous  balls  had  hit  their  aim! 


THE  KING'S  RING.  61 


Father  Hieronymus  rajred.  Once  more  he 
determined  to  try  his  luck  with  twelve  ^:»a^ers  and 
woes.,  when  some  one  touched  him  on  the  shoulder, 
and  behind  him  stood  an  old  soldier,  who,  with 
Count  Lichtenstein,  had  returned  from  Swedish 
captivity. 

'  "  Let  it  alone,"  said  the  old  man,  in  a  warning 
tone;  "  it  wastes  our  powder  uselessly.  The  man 
at  whom  you  are  aiming  is  not  to  be  hit:  he  is  in- 
vulnerable?'' 

The  Jesuit's  superstition  was  in  such  cases 
greater  tlian  his  craftiness.  He  turned  round 
basiily,  and  muttered  under  his  breath: 

"  I  ought  to  have  guessed  that.  But  how  do 
you  know  that  he  is  invulnerable, my  son?"  added 
he,  raising  his  voice. 

"I  heard  it  in  the  Swedes'  own  camp.  The 
king  wears  on  the  forefinger  of  his  right  hand  a 
little  ring  of  copper,  scratched  all  over  with  magic 
signs.  He  received  it  in  his  youth  from  a  sorcer- 
ess in  Finland;  and,  so  long  as  he  wears  this  ring, 
neither  iron  nor  lead,  neither  fire  nor  water,  has 
any  effect  on  him." 

"  Nothing  affects  him,  you  say?  Oh,  maledicti 
^e«no«e.9.^  why  do  ye  pursue  me  everywhere?" 

"Neither  iron  nor  lead,"  continued  the  soldier, 
in  a  whisper;  "but  if  I  dared  to  disclose  another 
means  .  .  " 

"  Speak,  my  son ;  you  have  absolution  before- 
hand." 

"  But,  worthy  father,  it  is  a  sinful  means." 

"For  the  welfare  of  the  holy  cause,  all  means 
are  sanctified.     Speak  out,  my  son." 

"  Gold  from  a  saint's  image  .  .  " 

"  No,  my  son,  no  ;  we  certainly  dare  not  em- 
ploy that.     Had  it  been  a  dagger  of  glass,  a  subtle 


62  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

poison,  it  might  have  been  done;  but  gold  from  the 
image  of  a  saint — no,  my  son;  let  us  think  of  it 
no  more." 

In  the  meantime,  darkness  had  descended,  and 
the  work  of  death  for  the  day  was  over.  .  The 
tired  warriors  refreshed  themselves  with  food  and 
drink,  Keller  dispensing  noble  wines  to  strengthen 
their  courage. 

Lady  Regina  had  descended  into  one  of  the 
inner  rooms  of  the  castle;  Count  Fritz  had  retired 
to  rest.  Soon  was  heard  through  the  castle  only 
the  call  of  the  sentinels,  mingled  with  the  coarse 
songs  of  drunken  soldiers,  and  the  sounds  of  the 
banquet  which  Keller  gave  his  officers  in  the  large 
armory.  But  in  the  magnificent  chapel,  where 
uppermost  on  the  altar  stood  the  images  of  the 
Virgin  Mary  and  the  Savior,  of  pure  gold,  sur- 
rounded by  images  of  the  Apostles,  in  the  finest 
silver,  the  midnight  mass  was  already  over,  and 
the  monks  had  one  after  one  stolen  away  to  rest, 
or  to  the  wine-cup.  Only  one  solitary  figure 
was  seen  still  kneeling  at  the  altar;  and  the  ever- 
burning lamp  cast  its  faint  glimmer  over  the 
deadly-pale  features  of  the  praying  Jesuit. 

"Holy  Mary,"  prayed  he,  "forgive  thy  unworthy 
servant  for  daring  to  stretch  out  his  hand  to  pilfer 
a  scrap  of  thy  golden  mantle.  Thou  knowest,  O 
sanctissima!  that  it  is  done  for  a  good  and  sacred 
object,  in  order  to  destroy  thy  sworn  enemy  and 
that  of  the  holy  church,  the  heretic  prince  whom 
the  heathen  Finns,  with  their  godless  witchcraft, 
have  rendered  impervious  to  the  swords  and  bul- 
lets of  the  true-believing  Catholics.  Grant  that 
this  gold,  which  1,  to  thy  honor,  cut  from  thy 
glorious  mantle,  may  pierce  the  sinful  heart  of  the 
heretic   king;  and  I   promise  thee,  Holy  Mary,  to 


THE  KING'S  RING.  63 


give  thee,  in  place  of  what  thou  hast  lost,  a 
coscly  robe  of  velvet  and  true  pearls.  Three 
gilded  candles  shall  also  be  kept  burning  night 
and  day  before  thy  image.     Amen." 

When  Father  Hieronymus  had  finished  this 
prayer,  he  looked  up  tremblingly;  and  it  seemed  to 
him  that  the  image,  in  the  rays  of  the  eternal 
lamp,  nodded  its  approval  to  his  fanatical  petition. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

LADY     REGINA'S    OATH. 

THE  events  last  described  were  succeeded  by 
a  hot  and  sanguinary  day.  The  castle  was 
vigorously  bombarded  by  the  Swedes,  who  now 
began  to  approach  the  walls  under  cover  of  skil- 
fully-constructed earthworks.  The  Imperialists 
defended  themselves  bravely.  Time  was  precious 
to  both  parties:  in  a  few  days  more,  Tilly  would 
stand  at  Gustaf  Adolf's  back,  a  probable  disaster 
to  the  Swedes,  a  sure  deliverance  for  the  be- 
leagured. 

Lady  Regina  and  her  maids  were  now  confined 
to  the  inner  regions  of  the  castle,  and  could  no 
longer  enjoy  their  interesting  view.  There  was  all 
the  more  to  do  inside.  The  number  of  the 
wounded  increased,  and  these  had  to  be  cared  for. 
The  young  girl  went  like  an  angel  of  mercy  from 
couch  to  couch  in  the  armory,  where  the  wounded 
were  now  quartered;  her  gCTitle  hand  poured  bal- 
sam on  their  wounds,  her  mild  words  poured  con- 
solation into  their  hearts.     She  spoke  of  the  holy 


64  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

cause  for  which  they  bled;  she  promised  gold  and 
honor  to  those  who  survived,  eternal  salvation  to 
those  who  fell  in  the  strife. 

The  cannonade  was  so  heavy  that  the  old  walls 
trembled.  Reo-ina  remembered  that  she  had  left 
her  rosary  up  in  the  turret,  and  it  was  now  needed 
for  the  prayers  of  the  wounded.  She  already 
stood  on  the  threshold  of  the  armory,  when  a  fear- 
ful crash  shook  the  castle  to  its  very  foundations. 
Pale  with  terror,  she  stopped,  and,  at  the  same 
instant,  the  Count  of  Lichtenstein  rushed  in. 

"  What  has  happened  ? "  asked  the  young 
girl. 

"  Thank  the  saints,  my  lady,  that  you  yesterday 
obeyed  a  friend's  advice.     The  turret  has  fallen." 

"  And  w«  are  lost!  " 

"  Not  yet.  The  Swedes  calculated  that  it 
would  fill  the  moat  with  its  ruins,  but  it  has  fallen 
inside.  The  enemy  seem  inclined  to  attempt  a 
storm.  Come  here  to  the  window;  this  overlooks 
the  castle  walls.  Do  you  see?  Father  Hierony- 
mus  is  on  his  knees  by  the  large  cannon.  I 
wager  he  has  cauo-ht  sia;ht  of  the  Swedish  kina:." 

The  count  had  guessed  rightly.  The  Jesuit's 
falcon  glance  was  steadily  directed  toward  a  single 
point,  and  his  thin  lips  mumbled  with  anxious 
haste  one  prayer  after  another.  His  spying  eyes 
had  discovered  Gustaf  Adolf  on  horseback,  as 
yesterday,  at  Per  Brahe's  side.  The  two  riders 
kept  quite  near  the  outworks;  a  pile  of  debris  pro- 
tected them  from  the  musket  shots,  but  was  evi- 
dently no  shield  against  a  ball  from  heavy  artillery. 
Father  Hieronymus  relied  upon  the  massive  lead 
ball,  into  which,  amidst  fasting  and  vigils,  he  had 
poured  the  gold  from  the  Holy  Virgin's  mantle. 
He  bent  down  to  aim  the  cannon;  the  pupils  of  his 


THE  KING'S  RING.  G5 

eyes  contracted,  his  nostrils  dilated,  wliile  a  stream 
of  Latin  orisons  continued  to  flow  from  his  lips; 
then  he  rose  quickly,  swung  the  burning  linstock 
in  the  form  of  a  cross,  and  fired. 

Flame  and  smoke  burst  from  the  mouth  of  the 
cannon.  Oh,  revenge  and  fury!  When  the  smoke 
cleared  away,  the  two  horsemen,  still  unharmed, 
were  seen  to  ride  a  little  aside.  But  this 
time  Gustaf  Adolf  had  been  near  death;  for  the 
ball  struck  the  heap  of  rubbish  and  covered  him 
and  Brahe  with  a  cloud  of  dust. 

Tired  out  and  furious,  the  Jesuit  hurried  from 
the  wall. 

"Wait,  you  King  of  Belial!"  he  muttered  to 
himself;  "  1  will  yet  succeed  in  stealing  the 
ring  which  protects  you,  and  then,  woe  be  unto 
you!  " 

The  king  now  gave  orders  to  storm  the  out- 
works. Axel  Lilje,  Jacob  Ramsay  and  Hamilton 
hurried  forward  with  their  men.  The  difficulties 
which  they  had  to  encounter  were  incredible. 
They  were  obliged,  under  a  shower  of  balls  and 
blows,  to  climb  the  precipitous  rock,  then  to  leap 
over  the  moat,  and  finally  scale  the  ramparts. 
First  of  all,  went  the  East  Bothnians  and  the  Scots, 
unchecked,  irresistible.  The  foremost  were  seen 
to  fall,  with  crushed  heads;  others,  with  their 
swords  between  their  teeth,  immediately  climbed 
up  the  ramparts  in  their  places.  The  king  himself 
rode  as  near  as  he  could,  in  order  to  encourage  his 
men.  A  musket  ball  tore  away  a  piece  of  his  buff 
gauntlet,  without  injuring  him.  The  belief  was 
general  that  Gustaf  Adolf  was  invulnerable. 

At  last,  after  two  hours  bloody  strife,  the  Scots 
and    the   Finns   had    decided   the   strufforle.      The 
important  outworks  were  taken,  and  the  defenders 
E  3* 


G6  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

drew  back  within  the  castle  walls.  It  was  then 
about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

After  the  advantage  they  had  gained,  the 
Swedes  took  a  few  hours'  rest.  A  council  of  war 
was  held,  and  it  was  decided  that  the  following 
morning  at  daybreak  the  famous  yellow-and-blue 
brigade  should  storm  the  castle.  The  East  Both- 
nians  were  selected  by  the  king  to  head  this  peril- 
ous undertaking;  and  the  Scots,  who  had  lost 
many  men,  were  this  time  to  rest.  Accounts  add, 
that  the  brave  Hamilton  regarded  this  tenderness 
as  involving  such  a  disgrace  that  he  requested  a 
discharge  on  the  spot,  and  quit  the  army. 

The  situation  of  the  besieged  was  yet  far  from 
desperate.  They  still  had  about  a  thousand  able 
men,  whom,  since  the  loss  of  the  outworks,  they 
could  the  better  concentrate  upon  a  single  point. 
But  they  had  lost  belief  in  victory;  and  this  loss 
counted  more  than  that  of  an  outwork.  In  vain 
did  Keller  try  to  exhort  them  to  courage;  in  vain 
did  the  monks  go  in  procession  around  the  walls, 
with  the  golden  image  of  the  Virgin.  When  night 
came,  all  was  confusion;  the  soldiers  no  longer 
obeyed  orders,  and  a  part  of  the  most  faint-hearted 
discussed  among  themselves  whether  they  ought 
not  to  make  use  of  the  darkness,  in  order  to  escape 
unseen. 

At  midnight  Lady  Regina  was  on  her  knees 
before  the  altar  in  the  chapel,  praying  with  burn- 
iiio-  fervor  to  the  imagfe  of  the  Virsrin. 

"  Holy  Mary,"  said  she,  "  protect  this  castle, 
protect  thy  Catholic  faith,  against  the  heretics! 
And  if  it  is  thy  will  that  this  stronghold  shall  fall, 
then  let  it  bury  under  its  ruins  our  enemies,  who 
are  also  thine;  and  first  of  all,  the  godless  king, 
their  prince,   as  well  as  his    heathen   Finns,  who 


THE  KING'S  RIMG.  67 

to-day,  and  many  times  before,  have  fought  most 
bitterly  against  thy  holy  cause." 

"Amen!  "said  a  voice;  and  when  she  looked 
around,  Father  Hieronymus  stood  behind  her.  His 
bearing  was  darkly  solemn,  and  a  grim  smile 
played  over  his  pale  features.  "  Do  you  know 
what  you  are  praying  for,  my  daughter?" 

"Victory  to  the  Catholic  faith;  death  to  the 
heretics!  " 

"  You  are  young,  and  the  human  mind  changes. 
Have  you  the  strength  to  hate  the  enemies  of  your 
faith,  even  if  you  ever,  as  a  woman,  felt  tempted 
to  love  one  of  them?" 

"  I  have,  my  father;  yes,  most  surely!  " 

"  I  am  your  confessor,  and  I  would  not  see 
your  soul  lost  for  all  eternity.  Have  you  courage 
to  sacrifice  yourself  for  the  holy  cause,  and  thereby 
gain  an  imperishable  martyr-crown?" 

"  Yes,  my  father." 

"  Very  well;  then  know  that  the  castle  can  not 
hold  out.  I  foresee  that  it  will,  within  a  short 
time,  fall  into  Swedish  hands.  They  will  take  you 
prisoner.  You  are  young  and  beautiful;  you  will 
win  the  favor  of  the  heretic  king.  You  must  avail 
yourself  of  it  to  approach  his  person;  he  will  not 
distrust  you,  and  when  the  Holy  Virgin  grants  you 
a  good  opportunity,  you  must  .  .  ."  The  Jesuit 
took  out  a  crucifix  of  silver  and  pressing  a  spring 
in  the  breast  of  the  image,  a  flashing  dagger  sprang 
out. 

"  Grace,  my  father;  this  charge  is  terrible!  " 

"  No  grace.  The  holy  church  demands  a  blind 
obedience.  Perinde  ac  cadaver  —  like  a  dead 
body — without  will.  Do  you  love  the  Mother  of 
God?" 

"  You  know  that  I  do." 


68  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

*'  Do  you  see  this  piece  of  her  golden  robe  she 
has  lost  during  the  night?  It  is  a  sign  which  por- 
tends her  anger.  Do  you  love  me  also,  my  daugh- 
ter?" 

"  I  revere  you  more  highly  than  any  other,  my 
father." 

"  Then  look  at  this  mutilated  head."  So  say- 
ing, the  Jesuit  removed  his  black  leather  calotte, 
and  exposed  the  repulsive  stumps  of  his  two  ampu- 
tated ears.  "  Thus  have  the  blasphemous  king's 
miscreants,  the  Finns,  treated  your  friend,  your 
confessor.  Do  you  still  hesitate  to  avenge  the 
Mother  of  God,  to  avenge  me?" 

"  What  do  you  ask  of  me,  my  father?  " 

"  Listen!  The  lieretic  kins;  wears  on  his  rio^ht 
forefinger  a  little  ring  of  copper;  in  it  consists  his 
security  against  death  and  danger.  This  ring  you 
must  gain  possession  of  tlirough  artifice;  and,  if 
you  then  feel  your  arm  too  weak,  call  upon  me. 
We  will  reach  his  heart,  even  were  it  coated  with 
a  dragon's  scales." 

"  If  it  is  the  will  of  the  saints  .  .  .  so  be 
it." 

"  Lay  two  fingers  on  this  crucifix,  and  repeat 
the  oath  1  dictate  to  you:  'I  swear  by  this  cross, 
and  by  all  the  saints,  to  accomplish  what  I  now 
vow  before  the  image  of  the  Holy  Virgin.  And' 
if  I  ever  break  this  oath,  then  may  the  curse  rest 
upon  me  and  my  posterity  to  the  seventh  genera- 
tion.' " 

"  '  I  swear  by  this  cross,  and  by  all  the  saints, 
to  accomplish  what  I  now  vow  before  the  image 
of  the  Holy  Virgin.  And  if  I  ever  break  this 
oath,  then  may  the  curse  rest  upon  me  and  my 
posterity  to  the  seventh  generation.'  " 


THE  KINGS  RING.  69 


'•'•Fiat  voluntas  tua^  ut  in  cmlis,  sic  etiam  in 
terra.     Amen!  "  * 

And  the  night's  silence  sealed  this  dreadful 
oath,  which  chained  with  copper  fetters,  the  com- 
iii2"  generations  to  the  waverino;  decision  of  a  girl 
of  sixteen. 

At  the  same  hour  of  the  night,  the  East  Both- 
nians,  with  the  other  troops  chosen  for  tlie  assault, 
assembled  in  the  lately  -  conquered  outworks. 
The  wine-cup  circled  round,  but  this  time  very 
moderately;  for  the  king's  vigilance  permitted  no 
imprudence.  A  number  of  volunteers  from 
several  regiments  had  asked  and  obtained  leave  to 
take  part  in  the  adventurous  expedition.  All  were 
in  good  s])irits  in  the  expectation  of  victory  and 
pillage. 

Last  among  the  volunteers  appeared  a  tall, 
fair-complexioned  youth,  of  a  cheerful  and  jovial 
appearance. 

"Thunder  and  lightning!  is  that  you,  Bertel?" 
exclaimed  a  short  and  thick  man.  Lieutenant  Lars- 
son,  of  the  East  Bothnians. 

"  As  you  see,"  said  the  youth,  shaking  his  hand 
cordially. 

"  Well,  I  declare,  the  good  boy  wishes  to  season 
his  new  lieutenant's  commission  !  It  is  not  my 
fault,  my  dear  fellow,  but  may  I  be  tossed  by  a 
buffalo  bull  if  there  is  a  single  drop  left  in  the 
flask.  But  tell  me,  what  is  the  matter  with  you, 
that  you  have  changed  your  name,  Bertel?  Wliat 
sort  of  a  mixture  is  it?  neither  Swedish  nor  Finn- 
ish." 

"  It  was  done  at  Breitenfeld,"  said  Bertel,  color- 
ing slightly.  "  My  comrades  have  long  called  me 
so,  and  ...  it  is  shorter." 

*  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth,  as  it  is  in  Iieaven. 


70  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"  Nonsense!  I  hope  you  don't  feel  too  good  to 
bear  a  peasant's  name,  now  that  you  have  become 
an  officer?  " 

"Have  the  lots  already  been  cast?"  rejoined 
the  youth,  without  answering  the  other's  ques- 
tion. 

"  You  came  just  in  time  to  try  your  luck." 

The  younger  officers,  all  of  whom  sought  the 
honor  of  commandinp'  the  first  dangerous  recon- 
noissance,  had  determined  to  draw  lots,  as  the 
difficulty  could  not  be  settled  in  any  other  way. 
The  lots  were  shaken  up  in  a  helmet;  fourteen 
hands  were  stretched  out  to  seize  the  slips,  and  the 
lucky  one  who  read  his  name  on  the  slip  was 
Bertel. 

"  Look  out  for  yourself,  my  boy,"  cried  the 
little  Larsson.  "  Thunder  and  lightning!  remem- 
ber  that  the  castle  is  full  of  Jesuits.  At  every 
step  a  trap-door  under  your  feet,  in  every  crucifix 
a  dagger,  and  even  in  the  moment  of  victory,  a 
mine  which  blows  the  conqueror  into  the  air." 

It  was  after  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
they  had  yet  a  half  hour  before  dawn.  Bertel, 
with  seven  men  under  his  command,  was  ordered 
to  reconnoitre  the  fort,  approaching  it  as  near  as 
possible.  In  the  meantime,  the  troops  held  them- 
selves in  the  captured  outworks,  ready  for  the  first 
sio:nal. 

The  night  was  coal  black.  Bertel  and  his  men 
approached  the  drawbridge  with  cautious  steps, 
and  without  being  observed  by  the  sentinels.  Who 
can  picture  his  astonishment  when  he  found  it 
down!  * 

He   stopped  for  an  instant,  doubtful  and   un- 

*  Some  authors  assert  tbat  the  drawbridge  could  not  be  drawn  up,  on 
account  of  the  weight  of  the  many  dead  bodies  left  there  after  the  strife. 


THE  KING'S  RING.  71 

decided,  recollecting  Larssou's  words.  Could  this 
be  a  snare? 

All  was  still.  Bertel  and  his  men  advanced, 
boldly  but  slowly  and  cautiously  over  the  bridge. 

"Who  goes  there?"  thundered  an  Imperial 
sentinel,  in  the  darkness. 

"Swede!"  cried  Bertel,  cleaving  with  one 
blow  the  man's  skull.  "Comrades,  the  castle  is 
taken!"  And  the  seven  pushed  on  resolutely  in 
his  footsteps. 

Inside  the  drawbridge  stood  two  hundred  Im- 
perialists on  guard.  Appalled  and  dumbfounded, 
they  believed  that  the  whole  Swedish  force  were 
storming  in  over  the  drawbridge.  They  hastened 
to  regain  the  sally-port;  but  the  bold  lieutenant 
and  his  seven  men  stood  their  ground.  To  Ber- 
tel's  good  fortune, the  darkness  in  the  arched  gate- 
way was  impenetrable;  no  one  could  distinguish 
either  friend  or  enemy,  and  the  Imperialists  struck 
their  own  men  as  often  as  the  foe.  The  press  soon 
became  so  great  that  no  sword  could  be  raised  to 
strike,  and  the  rash  assailants  narrowly  escaped 
being  jammed  to  death  against  the  walls  by  the 
rushing  mass  of  mail-clad  men. 

Bertel's  cry  and  the  tumult  of  strife  had  been 
heard  in  good  time  by  those  in  the  outworks.  The 
whole  Swedish  force  now  stormed  asrainst  the 
fortress.  Keller,  with  his  followers,  seized  their 
weapons,  and  hastened  out  to  defend  the  entrance; 
but  the  Finns  had  got  breathing  space,  and 
pressed  forward:  in  a  short  time  they  stood  inside 
the  castle  yard.  Keller  and  his  men  fought  with 
the  courage  of  despair:  many  valiant  Swedes  and 
Finns  fell  in  the  very  moment  of  victor3\  Their 
fall  incited  their  countrymen  to  revenge.  They 
began  to  cry,  '•^Magdeburger  pardon  /"    and   this 


72  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

cry  meant  death  without  mercy  to  all  Imperialists. 
The  carnage  became  fearful.  Many  monks  threw 
themselves  fanatically  into  the  strife,  some  with 
torches,  some  with  sword  in  hand.  Most  of  them 
were  hewn  down;  others  cast  themselves  on  the 
ground,  feigning  death.  Day  began  to  dawn  over 
the  sanguinary   scene. 

Then  Lennart  Torstenson  started  forward, 
seized  the  madly-struggling  Keller  around  the 
waist,  and  took  him  prisoner,  thus  saving  him  from 
the  fury  of  the  soldiers.  The  Imperialists,  or  the 
few  of  them  who  yet  lived,  laid  down  their  arms, 
and  the  castle  was  taken. 


CHAPTER    V. 

JUDITH     AND     HOLOFERNES. 

AS  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  shimmered  on  the 
waves  of  the  river  Main,  Castle  Marienburg 
was  in  the  possession  of  the  Swedes.  The  king- 
rode  into  the  court-vard,  which  was  covered  with 
his  fallen  enemies;  more  than  twenty  monks  were 
counted  among  the  dead.  But  some  of  these 
seemed  to  the  king  to  have  altogether  too  bloom- 
ing cheeks  to  resemble  corpses.  "  Stand  up!  "  said 
he  to  them;  "you  shall  suffer  no  harm."  And 
immediately  many  of  the  pretended  dead  sprang 
up,  sound  and  well,  on  their  two  feet,  and  bowed, 
full  of  joy  and  gratitude,  to  the  magnanimous 
heretic  prince. 

As  the  castle  was  taken   by  storm,  the  soldiers 
were  allowed  to  plunder.     Grand  was  the  booty  of 


THE   KING'S  RING.  73 

silver  and  gold,  weapons,  and  all  sorts  of  precious 
things.  The  king  reserved  to  himself  the  armory, 
with  complete  equipments  for  seven  thousand 
infantry  and  four  thousand  cavalry,  forty-eight 
cannon,  four  mortars,  the  stables  with  the  choicest 
horses,  and  the  wine-cellar,  filled  with  the  purest 
wines.  The  library  was  taken  as  a  donation  to  the 
Upsala  University;  the  sacred  images  of  gold  and 
silver  found  their  way  to  the  treasury.  Notwith- 
standing that  many  of  the  residents  of  the  town 
recovered  the  property  they  had  brought  there, 
the  soldiers'  booty  was  so  great  that,  at  the 
division,  they  measured  the  clinking  coin  with  full 
helmets.  Finally,  Keller  was  obliged  to  disclose 
the  vault,  which,  cut  in  the  rock  itself,  deep  below 
the  cellar,  preserved  the  bishop's  treasure. 
Fryxell  relates,  that,  when  the  soldiers  carried  up 
the  heavy  chests,  the  bottom  of  one  fell  out,  and  a 
quantity  of  shining  ducats  rolled  out  on  the 
ground.  The  men  threw  themselves  down  to  pick 
them  up,  leaving  some  to  the  king,  for  decency's 
sake,  but  stuffing  the  most  part  into  their  own 
pockets.  Gustaf  Adolf  noticed  this,  and  said, 
laughing: 

"Never  mind,  boys;  as  it  has  once  fallen  into 
your  hands,  you  may  as  well  keep  it." 

After  that  day,  scarcely  a  soldier  was  to  be 
found  in  the  whole  Swedish  army  who  did  not 
have  a  new  suit  of  clothes.  In  the  camp  a  cow 
was  sold  for  a  dollar,  a  sheep  for  a  few  pennies; 
and  the  learned  Salvius  writes:  "  Our  Finnish 
boys,  who  are  now  accustomed  to  the  vineyards 
down  there,  are  not  likely  to  come  back  to  Savolax 
very  soon.  In  the  Livonian  war,  they  were  often 
obliged  to  put  up  with  ale-soup  made  of  water 
4 


74  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

and   mouldy  bread;  now,  the  Finn  makes  it  in  his 
helmet,  with  wine  and  cakes." 

Among  the  prisoners  were  the  Count  of  Lich- 
tenstein  and  Lady  Regina.  The  king  commanded 
that  both  should  be  treated  with  chivalrous 
courtesy.  To  the  young  lady  he  offered  safe- 
conduct  to  the  bishop,  her  uncle.  Regina  declined 
this  offer,  on  account  of  the  insecurity  of  the 
times,  and  begged  as  a  favor  to  be  allowed  to 
remain  under  the  king's  protection  for  the  present. 
Gustaf  Adolf  consented. 

"  I  do  it  unwillingly,"  said  he,  smiling,  to  the 
Margrave  of  Baden  Durlach,  who  rode  by  his  side. 
"Young  girls  are  a  superfluity  in  the  field,  and 
confuse  the  heads  of  my  young  officers.  How- 
ever, she  can  go  with  me  to  Frankfort,  as  a  host- 
age, to  bind  the  bishop's  hands." 

"Your  majesty  knows  how  to  capture  all 
through  your  magnanimity,"  replied  the  Margrave, 
with  a  courtier's  politeness. 

"  Lieutenant  Bertel,"  added  the  king,  as  he 
turned  to  the  officer  who,  close  behind  him,  com- 
manded a  troop  of  Finnish  cavalry,  "  1  confide 
Lady  von  Emmeritz  to  your  protection.  She  has 
permission  to  take  with  her  an  old  woman  attend- 
ant, one  maiden,  and  her  father  confessor.  See  to 
it  that  you  do  not  fall  in  love,  lieutenant;  and, 
above  all,  give  close  heed  to  the  monk:  that  sort ' 
are  not  to  be  trusted." 

Bertel  silently  saluted  with  his  sword. 

"One  thing  more,"  continued  the  king.  "I 
have  not  forgotten  that  you  were  the  first  who 
pressed  through  the  sally-port.  After  you  have 
placed  the  young  girl  in  safety,  you  can  commence 
service  in  my  body  guard.  Have  you  understood 
me?  " 


THE  KING'S  RING.  75 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"  Good; "  and  the  king  again  turned  to  the 
Margrave,  as  he  merrily  added:  "  Believe  me,  it 
w^ould  have  been  risky  to  intrust  the  beautiful 
black-eyed  girl  to  one  of  my  warm-blooded 
Swedes.  The  boy  there  is  a  Finn;  they  are  the 
most  phlegmatic  people  I  know  of;  they  are  bad 
love-makers;  it  ta-kes  them  a  year  to  get  on  fire; 
one  girl  can  put  twenty  of  them  to  flight  in  a  ball- 
room; but  if  it  is  a  question  of  grappling  with 
Pappenheim,  then  your  grace  knows  what  they  are 
capable  of." 

Far  into  the  autumn,  Gustaf  Adolf  flew  from 
victory  to  victory.  Tilly,  who  had  come  too  late 
to  save  Wurtzburg,  did  not  dare  attack  him,  and^ 
irritated  by  ill-luck  and  constant  small  defeats,' 
turned  back  to  the  Bavarian  frontier.  Gustaf 
Adolf  marched  along  the  Main,  entered  Aschaffen- 
burg,  and  compelled  the  cautious  city  of  Frank- 
fort to  open  its  gates.  On  the  6th  of  December,  he 
forced  a  passage  across  the  Rhine  at  Oppenheim, 
and  on  the  9th  took  possession  of  Mayence,  which 
the  Spaniard  De  Sylva  defiantly  promised  to 
defend  ao-ainst  three  kiiig-s  of  Sweden.  The 
Swedish  arms  had  now  gained  the  ascendency  over 
the  whole  north  and  west  of  Germany,  and  tiie 
conqueror  chose  as  his  winter  quarters  Frankfort- 
on-the-Main.  Here  a  brilliant  court  gathered 
around  tiie  hero;  it  was  here  that  flattery  hastened 
to  adorn  his  head  with  the  German  Imperial 
crown;  it  was  here  that  Maria  Eleonora  hastened 
on  the  wings  of  longing  to  embrace  her  consort; 
in  Hanau,  where  the  king  had  ridden  to  meet  her, 
she  clasped  him  in  her  arms,  as  she  exclaimed: 
"  Now,  at  last,  is  the  great  Gustaf  Adolf  cap- 
tured! " 


7G  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

One  day,  at  the  end  of  December,  1631,  the 
king  gave  a  large  banquet  in  Frankfort,  in  honor 
of  the  queen's  arrival.  Immense  throngs  pressed 
outside  the  castle,  whose  high  Gothic  windows  at 
night  diffused  a  radiance  like  that  of  day.  x\le 
and  wine  ran  continually  from  large  casks,  for  the 
regalement  of  the  people;  around  the  spigots 
workmen  and  soldiers  jostled  each  other,  holding 
out  tankards  and  cups,  which,  quickly  filled,  were 
as  quickly  emptied  again.  The  good  citizens  of 
Frankfort  were  beside  themselves  with  admiration 
of  the  great  king.  Gossip  of  his  justice  and 
clemency  was  freely  circulated:  now  he  had  had  a 
soldier  hung  for  stealing  a  burgher's  hen;  now 
he  had  stopped  in  the  street  and  spoken  familiarly 
with  those  he  met.  They  imagined  that  they  saw 
his  shadow  pass  by  the  small  window-panes,  and 
wondered  whether  the  German  crown  would  not 
be  placed  upon  the  mighty  brow  that  very  even- 
inof. 

In  the  halls  of  the  castle  a  princely  magnifi- 
cence prevailed.  Gustaf  Adolf  knew  his  consort's 
weakness  for  outward  grandeur,  and  probably 
wished  also  to  produce  an  imposing  effect  upon 
the  assembled  German  nobility.  The  floor  was 
covered  with  rich  Flemish  carpets;  over  the  win- 
dows hung  drapery  of  purple  satin,  with  tassels  of 
gold;  and  costly  chandeliers, heavy  with  a  thousand 
wax-lights,  were  suspended  from  the  ceiling,  decor- 
ated with  arabesques.  They  had  just  finished  one 
of  those  measured  and  stately  Spanish  dances  at 
that  time  in  vogue,  in  which  the  heavy-footed 
northerner  tried  in  vain  to  compete  with  the  Ger- 
man and  French  nobility.  The  king  had  offered 
his  arm  to  his  wife,  and  was  promenading  the  bril- 
liant rooms  with  her.      His  tall  and  portly  figure, 


THE  KING'S  RING.  77 

Avith  tlie   simple    dignity   which   at   once   inspired 
reverence   and  love,  seemed   even    more   tall   and 
manly  by  the  side    of    the   slender   and   delicate 
queen,  who,  with  sincere  devotion,  leaned  upon  his 
arm.     Maria  Eleonora  was  at  that  time  thirty-two 
years  of  age,  and  had  retained  a  great  part  of   the 
beauty  which  in  her  first  youth  had  gained  her  so 
many  admirers.     Upon  her  black  hair,  arranged  in 
short  curls  around  the  snow-white  temples,  flashed 
a  diadem  of  immense  value,  just  presented  to  her 
by  the  king;  her  expressive  blue  eyes  rested  with 
indescribable  affection  upon  her  royal  escort;    she 
seemed  to  forget  herself,  to  enjoy  only  the  admira- 
tion which  surrounded  her  husband.     In  the  train 
of  the  royal  pair,  followed  a  numerous  throng  of  all 
the  illustrious  personages  which  Protestant    Ger- 
many at  that  time  could  boast.       One  saw   there 
the  deposed  King  Frederick  of  Bohemia,  the  Dukes 
of  Weimar  and  Wiirtemberg,  the  Landgraves  of 
Hesse,  the  Margrave  of  Baden  Durlach,  the  Counts 
of  Wetterau,  as  well  as  other  distinguished  cheva- 
liers.    Not  less  than  twelve  ambassadors  from  for- 
eign courts  had  assembled  there  around  the  hero 
feared  by  all  Europe.     Of  the  king's  own  people, 
Tott,  Baner,  and  Gustaf  Horn  were  elsewhere  oc- 
cupied with  affairs  of   war;    but  there  at  Gustaf 
Adolf's  side,  great  as  he  in  stature  as  in  intellect, 
was  the  gifted  Oxenstjerna;    and  behind  him,  the 
man  with  the  bloodless  and  insignificant  aspect,  and 
the    calm,  penetrating,   and    commanding    glance, 
I^ennart  Torstenson,   as  well  as  the   proud    Finn, 
Wittenberg,  then  lieutenant  colonel.     Many  of  the 
Swedish  and  almost  all  the  Finnish  generals — Stal- 
handske,  Ruuth,  Forbus,  and  others — did  not  thrive 
well  in  the  stiffness  of  the  royal  halls,  among  this 
haughty  nobility,  whose  court  ceremonials  appeared 


78  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

to  the  stern  warriors  unendurably  tedious;  tiiey 
therefore  had  withdrawn  in  good  time  to  one  of  the 
smaller  rooms,  where  pages,  in  gold-embroidered 
velvet  suits,  poured  the  choicest  Rhine  wines 
freely  into  silver  goblets. 

Amono-  this  brilliant  assemblao;e  must  be  men- 
tioned  the  members  of  the  common  council  of  the 
city  of  Frankfort,  and  many  of  the  most  prominent 
citizens,  with  their  wives  and  daughters,  as  well  as 
a  large  number  of  ladies,  from  the  high-born 
duchess  down  to  the  scarcely  less  proud  coun- 
cillor's wife.  Yes,  one  saw  there  even  a  small 
number  of  Catholic  prelates,  easily  recognizable 
by  their  bald  heads:  for  the  king  wished  to  pro- 
claim religious  freedom  by  word  and  deed;  and  the 
prelates,  although  in  their  hearts  cursing  the  mean 
role  they  played  there,  when  once  invited  did  not 
dare  to  remain  away. 

Doubly  gorgeous  became  this  scene  through  a 
magnificence,  a  luxury  of  attire,  of  which  one  now- 
a-days  can  scarcely  form  a  conception.  The  king 
himself  wore  a  simple  tight-fitting  suit  of  black 
velvet  stitched  with  silver,  a  short  Spanish  cape  of 
white  satin  embroidered  by  the  queen's  own  hand, 
short  top-boots  of  yellow  leather,  and  the  well- 
known  broad  lace  collar  which  one  sees  in  all  his 
portraits,  together  with  the  close  cut  hair  and  long 
goatee.  The  luxury-loving  queen  wore  a  richly 
jeweled  dress  of  silver  brocade  with  a  short  waist 
and  half-sleeves;  even  the  little  white  satin  slip- 
pers glittered  with  brilliants.  The  ladies  of  the 
higher  aristocracy  and  the  rich  burgher  wives  vied 
among  themselves  and  with  the  queen  in  dis^^lay. 
Here  were  seen  both  silver  and  gold  fabrics,  velvet, 
satin,  and  costly  Brabant  laces;  especially  had  the 
good  dames  an  inexplicable  taste  in  decking  them- 


THE  KPNG'S    RING.  79 

selves  with  bright  ribbons  in  all  possible  colors, 
buckles,  rosettes,  and  long  sashes,  which,  fluttering 
in  the  current  of  air,  gave  everytliing  an  aspect  of 
gaiety.  Princes  and  chevaliers,  some  in  the  loose 
German  costume,  others  in  the  closer-fitting  Span- 
ish, with  their  plumed  hats  under  their  arms,  and 
the  attendant  pages  in  velvet  and  silver,  completed 
this  bright  picture  of  a  time  when  uniforms  were 
not  yet  known. 

Wherever  the  king  went,  flattery  and  admiration 
ofi"ered  their  incense. 

"  Sire,"  said  the  insinuating  King  of  Bohemia  to 
him,  "your  majesty  can  only  be  compared  to  Alex- 
ander of  Macedon." 

"My  cousin,"  answered  Gustaf  Adolf,  smiling, 
"you  do  not  mean  to  liken  the  good  city  of  Frank- 
fort to  Babylon?" 

"No,  sire,"  joined  in  the  French  ambassador, 
Breze,  who  walked  by  their  side;  "his  Bohemian 
majesty  only  wishes  to  liken  the  Rhine  to  Grani- 
cus,  and  hopes  that  the  new  Alexander's  Hyphasis 
may  lie  beyond  the  frontiers  of  Bohemia." 

"Confess,  Count  Breze,"  said  the  king,  changing 
the  subject,  "that  our  nortliern  and  your  French 
beauties  have  to-day  been  vanquished  by  a  Ger- 
man." 

"  Sire,  I  share  your  opinion,  that  her  majesty 
the  queen,  in  order  to  vanquish,  does  not  need  the 
enviable  place  at  your  side,"  responded  the  polite 
Frenchman. 

"  My  consort  will  be  grateful  for  your  compli- 
ment, Sir  Ambassador;  but  she  yields  to  Lady 
von  Emmeritz  the  preference  which  belongs  to 
youth." 

"  Your  majesty  over-flatters  our  national  pride," 
said  the  Duke  of  Wiirtemburg,  with  a  bow. 


80  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"  Beauty  is  cosmopolitan,  your  grace.  It  was 
in  truth  a  precious  spoil  ray  warriors  took  at 
Wurtzburg." 

The  king  thereupon  approached  Lady  Regina, 
whose  radiant  beauty  was  enhanced  by  a  tightly- 
fitting  robe  of  black  velvet,  strewn  with  stars  of 
pale  silver. 

"My  lady,"  said  he,  courteously,  "I  should 
count  myself  happy  if  the  mourning  attire  you 
wear  covered  a  heart  which  was  able  to  forget  all 
sad  memories,  and  to  live  in  the  hope  of  a  happier 
time,  when  war  and  feuds  shall  no  longer  frighten 
the  color  from  your  beautiful  cheeks.  Believe  me, 
my  lady,  that  time  will  come;  I,  no  less  than  you, 
desire  it  with  all  my  heart;  and  let  this  hope  call 
joy  to  your  lips,  where  it  ought  always  to  dwell." 

"At  your  majesty's  side,  one  forgets  every- 
thing," replied  Regina,  as  she  respectfully  rose 
from  the  high  purple-covered  arm-chair.  But  her 
cheeks  paled  still  more  at  these  words,  and  be- 
trayed too  vivid  a  recollection  of  the  past  and  of 
her  present  captivity. 

"  Are  you  not  well,  my  lady?" 

"  Perfectly  well,  your  majesty." 

"You  have  perhaps  something  to  complain  of? 
Confide  in  me     .     .     .    as  in  a  friend." 

"Your  majesty  is  very  good.    ..." 

Regina  struggled  with  herself.  Finally  she 
added,  with  downcast  eyes,  "  Your  majesty's  kind- 
ness leaves  me  nothing  to  desire." 

"  We  shall  see  each  other  again."  And  the 
king  continued  his  promenade  through  the  hall. 

Lady  Regina  drew  back  into  the  deep  window- 
niche  of  an  adjoining  room,  and  burst  into  tears. 
"  Holy  Virgin,"  prayed  she,  "  forgive  me  that  my 
heart  does  not  belong  to  thee  alone!     Thou,  who 


THE  KING'S  RING.  81 

seest  my  inmost  thoughts,  thou  knowest  that  I 
have  not  the  strength  to  hate  this  heretic  king  as 
thou  demandcst  of  me.  He  is  so  great,  so  beauti- 
ful! Woe  unto  me  that  1  tremble  at  the  thought 
of  the  holy  work  thou  hast  laid  upon  me!  " 

'^  Courage,  my  daughter!  "  whispered  a  voice 
quite  near,  and  Regina's  evil  demon,  the  pale  Jes- 
uit, stood  behind  her.  "  The  moment  approaches," 
continued  he,  in  a  low  tone.  "The  godless  prince 
is  captivated  by  your  beauty;  rejoice,  my  child; 
the  Holy  Virgin  has  doomed  him  to  destruction. 
This  nioht  shall  he  die." 

"  O  my  father,  my  father!  what  do  you  ask  of 
me?" 

"  Listen  to  me,  my  daughter.  When  Holofer- 
nes,  the  Assyrian  chief,  laid  siege  to  Bethulia, 
there  was  a  widow,  Judith,  the  daughter  of  Merari. 
beautiful  as  you,  my  child,  and  as  pious.  She 
fasted  three  days,  then  went  out  and  found  favor 
in  the  eyes  of  the  enemy  of  her  people  and  her 
faith;  and  the  saints  gave  his  life  into  her  hands. 
She  drew  his  sword,  cut  off  his  head,  and  delivered 
her  people." 

"  Grace,  my  father!  " 

"  For  this  deed,  great  glory  was  accounted  her, 
and  eternal  salvation,  and  her  name  became  men- 
tioned among  the  greatest  in  Israel.  So  shall  they 
one  day  mention  your  name,  my  daughter,  among 
the  blessed  saints  of  the  Catholic  Church.  Know 
that  last  night  the  holy  Saint  Franciscus  appeared 
at  my  couch  and  said:  '  The  hour  has  come:  go, 
say  to  Judith  that  ]  will  give  the  head  of  Holo- 
femes  into  her  hands.'  " 

"  What  shall  I  do,  my  father?  " 

"  Mark  well  how  you  should  act.  This  very 
F 


82  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

evening  you   must   request   of  the   king   a   secret 
meeting." 

"  Impossible!  " 

"  You  will  reveal  to  him  a  fictitious  plot  against 
his  life.  He  will  listen  to  you.  You  will  entice 
the  ring  from  him.  Once  in  possession  of  it,  I 
will  be  ready  to  assist  you.  But  if  he  refuses  you 
the  ring,  then  .  .  .  take  this  paper;  it  contains 
an  irremediable  poison;  Saint  Franciscus  himself 
gave  it  to  me.  You  shall  mix  it  in  the  beverage 
which  the  king  drinks  at  night.   .    .    ." 

Lady  Regina  took  the  dangerous  paper,  leaned 
her  head  against  the  window-frame,  and  scarcely 
seemed  to  hear  the  Jesuit's  foreboding  words.  An 
entirely  new  thought  had  seized  this  ardent  soul, 
and  was  working  itself  to  clearness.  The  Jesuit, 
however,  misunderstood  her;  he  supposed  that  her 
silence  proceeded  from  submission  to  his  despot- 
ism, from  fanatic  ecstacy  over  the  martyr-crown  he 
held  up  to  her. 

"Have  you  understood  me,  my  daughter?" 
asked  he. 

"  Yes,  my  father." 

"  You  will  then  this  evening  ask  the  king  for  a 
private  audience?     You  will    .    .    ." 

"  Yes,  my  father." 

"  Benedicta.,  ter  henedicta.,  thou  thrice-blessed 
chosen  instrument,  go  to  thy  heavenly  glory!  " 
And  the  Jesuit  disappeared  in  the  throng. 

The  large  clock  in  the  coronation  chamber 
pointed  to  the  hour  of  midnight.  By  means  of 
an  ingenious  mechanism,  invented  by  a  Nurem- 
berger,  two  immense  tables,  set  with  elegant  silver 
service,  rolled  out  from  an  adjoining  room  at  the 
twelfth  stroke,  and  stood  at  once,  as  if  risen  from 
the  floor,  in  the  centre  of  the  iiall.      Upon  a  -sign 


THE  KING'S  KING.  83 

from  the  master  of  ceremonies,  the  king  and  queen 
placed  themselves  before  two  purple  chairs  at  the 
middle  of  the  upper  table;  and  al!  the  guests  took 
their  places  in  rows  according  to  rank  and  dignity, 
around  the  festive  board.  One  of  the  prelates 
present  said  grace  in  a  loud  voice,  after  which  the 
king  himself  recited  a  short  psalm,  and  the  rest 
joined  in  with  familiar  voices.  All  now  seated 
themselves,  with  considerable  bustle,  and  did  not 
allow  themselves  to  be  incommoded  by  much  fur- 
ther ceremony.  The  dishes  were  both  numerous 
and  substantial.  Richelieu  had  sent  Gustaf  Adolf 
a  French  cook;  but  the  king,  who  indulged  little  in 
high  living,  employed  the  fine  Frenchman  only  for 
ornamental  dishes,  on  such  occasions  as  this;  nor 
did  he,  perhaps,  trust  fully  the  cardinal's  gift,  as  it 
was  said  that  Richelieu's  dinners  were  scai-ely  less 
dangerous  than  those  of  the  famous  Boroias.  Be- 
sides,  the  cooking  of  the  Netherlands  and  of  Ger- 
many was  at  that  time  in  higher  favor  than  that  of 
the  French.  The  chief  ornaments  of  the  table  at 
this  banquet  were  a  wild  boar  roasted  whole,  em- 
bellished with  flowers  and  laurel  leaves;  and  a  piece 
of  pastry,  presented  by  the  Frankfort  bakers,  repre- 
senting the  triumphal  march  of  a  Roman  emperor. 
Tlie  guests  fancied  that  they  recognized,  in  this  six- 
inch  victor  of  dough,  the  features  of  Gustaf  Adolf; 
and  many  jesting  Avords  passed  from  one  to  an- 
other, as  they  pretended  to  discover  resemblances 
between  their  neighbors  and  the  doughty  Roman 
warriors. 

The  queen,  whose  delicate  hand  was  first  to 
break  this  masterpiece  of  the  baker's  art,  smilingly 
transferred  to  her  silver  plate  one  of  the  last 
slaves  in  the  triumphal  procession;  but  the  king, 
who  was  above  superstition,  and  generally  blessed 


84  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

with  a  good  appetite,  when  hei  had  time  to  gratify 
it,  seized  the  great  pastry  hero  rather  ungently 
with  his  warrior  liand,  and  placed  a  considerable 
portion  of  it  on  his  own  plate.  In  the  meanwhile, 
the  silver  goblets  were  filled  with  the  choicest 
Rhine  and  Spanish  wines;  the  king  quietly  drank  to 
the  queen,  and  all  the  guests  followed  his  example. 
The  retainers  and  pages,  who  stood  in  glittering 
rows,  one  behind  each  chair  at  the  upper  table, 
while  at  the  lower  table  one  stood  behind  every 
other  chair,  refilled  the  empty  goblets;  tne  king 
drank  to  the  prosperity  of  the  city  of  Frankfort,  and 
then  rose  hastily,  offered  the  queen  his  arm,  and 
repaired  to  his  own  apartments.  Gustaf  Adolf's 
mode  of  life  was  frugal,  as  behooved  a  warrior;  his 
meals  were  usually  despatched  quickly,  although 
on  more  joyful  occasions,  when  time  permitted,  he 
was  easily  prevailed  upon  to  linger  an  hour  at  the 
table.  Still,  he  did  not  require  that  all  should 
follow  his  habits,  and,  when  he  himself  departed, 
delegated  the  office  of  host  to  one  of  those  nearest 
him. 

This  time  it  was  the  jovial  old  Scot,  Patrick 
Ruthven,  who  received  this  trust;  and  he  dis- 
charged it  with  tried  ability.  Oxenstjerna  had  left 
the  room  at  the  king's  side.  The  ladies  also  rose 
and  left  the  hall;  but  the  male  guests  remained 
sitting,  regaling  themselves  with  the  wine-cup,  and 
with  the  nuts,  passed  around  in  silver  bowls, 
among  which  were  a  number  of  stone  nuts,  painted 
so  skillfully  that  they  could  not  immediately  be 
distinguished  from  the  real.  From  the  witticisms 
which  these  suggested,  arose  the  saying,  "  a  hard 
nut  to  crack."  For  the  rest,  the  heroes  of  the 
Thirty  Years  War  were  pretty  hard  drinkers;  to 


THE    KING'S  RING.  85 

empty  a  full  beaker  of  Rhine  wine  at  a  draught, 
upon  their  knightly  oath,  was  for  them  an  ordinary 
matter.  But  they  did  not  carry  their  drinking  to 
the  same  wild  excess  here  as  at  many  private 
drinking-matehes:  they  knew  the  king's  stern 
principles,  and  did  not  dare  to  see  the  bottom  of 
the  cup  too  often.  Still,  they  sat  there  far  into 
the  night;  and  some  of  the  officers  treated  each 
other  to  a  delicacy,  hitherto  quite  scarce,  but  then 
imported  from  the  Netherlands:  a  black,  stringy 
substance,  which  was  carried  in  boxes,  and  circu- 
lated from  man  to  man,  so  that  each  one  had  a 
morsel,  which  some,  with  grimaces,  spat  out  again, 
and  others  kept  in  their  mouths  with  evident  sat- 
isfaction. This  substance  was,  as  the  reader  has 
probably  guessed,  tobacco. 

While  the  carousal  in  the  hall  continued,  the 
queen,  attended  by  her  maids  of  honor,  had  retired 
to  rest;  but  the  king  conversed  a  while  longer 
confidentially  with  Axel  Oxenstjerna.  What  these 
two  powerful  men,  the  general  and  the  statesman, 
talked  about,  can  rather  be  conjectured  than  re- 
lated. Perhaps  it  was  Sweden's  poverty,  the  re- 
sources of  the  emperor,  and  of  God,  still  greater; 
the  victory  of  the  right,  the  Roman  Imperial 
crown,  and  a  future  German  Protestant  empire. 
No  one  knows  with  certainty,  for  after  the  king's 
death  his  confidence  went  with  Oxenstjerna  to  the 
grave. 

It  was  now  very  late-,  and  Oxenstjerna  was  on 
the  point  of  retiring,  when  the  officer  on  guard, 
Bertel,  announced  that  a  veiled  lady  persistently 
demanded  an  audience  with  the  king.  This  unu- 
sual request,  at  such  an  hour,  astonished  both 
Gustaf  Adolf  and  his  companion;  but,  supposing 
some  important  reason  under  so  secret  a  visit,  the 


86  TIMES  OF   GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

king  commanded  Bertel  to  usher  in  the  stranger, 
and  requested  Oxenstjerna  to  remain. 

Bertel  went  out,  and  returned  in  a  moment 
with  a  tall  and  slender  lady  dressed  in  black  and 
closely  veiled.  She  seemed  frightened,  and  sur- 
prised not  to  find  the  king  alone;  no  word  passed 
her  lips. 

"  Madam,"  said  the  king,  rather  brusquely, — 
for  he  was  but  little  pleased  at  this  nocturnal  visit, 
which,  if  it  became  known,  might  excite  gossip 
among  the  courtiers,  and  perhaps  cause  jealousy  in 
his  sensitive  wife—"  madam,  a  call  at  this  time 
must  have  a  weighty  cause,  and  I  desire  in  the  first 
place  to  know  who  you  are." 

The  veiled  lady  made  no  reply.  The  king 
thought  that  he  guessed  the  reason  of  her  silence, 
and  continued,  pointing  to  his  neighbor: 

"This  is  Chancellor  Oxenstjerna,  ray  friend; 
and  from  him  I  have  no  secrets." 

The  lady  in  black  threw  herself  at  the  king's 
feet,  and  raised  her  veil.  The  king  started  as  he 
recognized  Lady  Regina  von  Emmeritz,  whose 
dark  eyes  flashed  with  ecstatic  fire,  while  a  marble 
paleness  overspread  her  delicate  and  transparent 
features. 

"  Stand  up,  my  lady,"  said  Gustaf  Adolf, 
gently,  as  he  reached  the  kneeling  woman  his 
hand  and  raised  her.  "  Why  do  you  come  to  me 
at  this  hour?  Speak,  I  beg  of  you!  Reveal  with- 
out fear  that  which  oppresses  your  heart,  as  I  have 
already  asked  you  to  do." 

Regina  breathed  deeply,  and  began  in  a  voice 
which,  at  first  scarcely  audible,  soon,  through  her 
burning  enthusiasm,  became  clear  and  strong. 

"Your  majesty,  I  come  to  you  because  you 
asked  me  to.     I  come  to  you  because  I  have  hated 


THE  KING'S  RING.  87 

you,  sire;  because  I  have  for  a  long  time  prayed 
daily  to  the  Holy  Virgin  that  she  might  destroy  you 
and  your  whole  army.  Your  majesty,  I  am  a  weak 
girl,  but  a  faithful  Catholic.  You  have  persecuted 
our  Church,  you  have  allowed  our  cloisters  to  be 
plundered,  expelled  our  holy  fathers,  and  melted 
the  images  of  the  saints;  you  have  slain  our  troops, 
and  done  our  cause  irreparable  harm.  Therefore  I 
have  sworn  with  a  sacred  oath  to  destroy  you;  and 
in  reliance  upon  the  Holy  Virgin's  help,  I  have  fol- 
lowed you  from  Wurtzburg  with  the  design  of 
killing  you." 

Ttie  king  exchanged  a  glance  with  Oxenstjeriia, 
which  expressed  a  doubt  of  the  fanatical  girl's 
sanity.  Regina  noticed  this,  and  continued  with  a 
firmer  bearing: 

"Sire,  you  believe  me  insane,  because  I  say 
such  things  to  you,  the  conqueror  of  Germany. 
But  hear  me  to  the  end!  When  T  saw  you  for  the 
first  time  in  Wurtzburg  Castle,  and  witnessed  the 
humane  mildness  with  which  you  protected  the 
weak  and  granted  life  to  your  subjugated  enemies, 
then  I  said  to  myself:  It  is  the  evil  power  which 
simulates  the  mercy  of  Heaven,  But  when  I  fol- 
lowed you  here,  and,  close  by  you,  saw  your  great- 
ness as  an  individual,  and  added  it  to  your  great- 
ness as  a  hero  .  .  .  sire,  then  my  resolution 
wavered,  my  hatred  began  to  abate;  I  struggled 
with  myself,  and  this  evening  your  kindness  has 
overcome  my  before  unalterable  purpose.  Sire,  1 
now  love  you,  as  I  have  hitherto  hated  you  .  .  . 
I  admire  you,  revere  you    .    .».  " 

And  the  beautiful  girl  cast  down  her  eyes  to  the 
floor. 

"Well,  then?"  said  the  king,  hesitatingly,  and 
with  some  emotion. 


88  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"  Your  majesty,  I  have  made  this  confession  be- 
cause you  are  sufficiently  noble  and  high-minded 
not  to  misunderstand  me.  But  I  have  not  come  to 
you  at  such  an  hour  merely  to  disclose  the  feelings 
of  an  unhappy  girl.  I  have  come  here  to  save 
you,  sire    ..." 

"  Explain  yourself  !  " 

"Hear  me,  your  majesty!  I  am  disarmed,  but 
others,  who  are  more  dangerous,  remain.  Six 
Jesuits  in  Augsburg  have  sworn  to  kill  you  .  .  . 
Oh,  you  know  not  of  what  these  men  are  capable! 
They  have  drawn  lots  for  your  life,  and  the  most 
dangerous  among  tliem  steals  around  your  person 
every  day.  Your  majesty  cannot  escape  them. 
Some  day  —  perhaps  to-morrow  —  you  will  be 
reached  by  the  dagger  or  by  poison.  Your  death 
is  certain." 

"  My  life  is  in  God's  hands,  and  not  in  those 
of  a  miserable  secret  assassin,"  answered  Gustaf 
Adolf,  calmly.  "The  evil  have  not  power  propor- 
tioned to  their  will.  Be  not  alarmed,  liady  von 
Emmeritz;  1  fear  them  not." 

"  Nay,  sire,  the  saints  have  decreed  j^our  death. 
I  know  you  trust  in  this  ring," — Regina  seized  the 
king's  hand, — "  but  it  will  not  help  you.  Sire,  I 
tell  you  that  your  death  is  sure;  and  I  have  not 
come  here  to  save  your  life,  and  thus  betray  the 
cause  of  our  holy  Church." 

"And  wherefore,  my  lady,  do  you  now  stand 
here?" 

Regina  again  threw  herself  devotedly  at  the 
king's  feet. 

"  Sire,  I  have  come  to  save  your  sonl.  I  cannot 
endure  the  thought  that  a  hero  like  you,  so  noble, 
so  great,  shall  be  lost  for  all  eternity.  Hear  me,  I 
entreat!     I  conjure  your  majesty,  by  your  hope  of 


THE  KING'S  RING.  89 


salvation,  not  to  persist  in  your  heretic  belief,  the 
fruit  of  which  is  damnation,  when  you  have  certain 
death  before  your  eyes.  Be  persuaded!  turn  while 
it  is  yet  time;  turn  to  the  only  saving  Catholic 
Church;  al^jui'e  your  heretic  faith;  go  to  the  holy 
father  in  Rome,  confess  your  sins  to  him,  and  use 
your  victorious  arms  in  the  service  of  the  Church, 
instead  of  employing  them  to  her  ruin.  She  will 
receive  you  with  open  arms,  and  then,  whether  your 
majesty  lives  or  dies,  you  will  always  be  sure  of  a 
place  among  the  chosen  saints  in  heaven." 

The  king  for  a  second  time  lifted  up  the  excited 
girl,  looked  steadily  and  calmly  into  her  flashing 
eyes,  and  answered  seriously: 

"  When  I  was  young,  like  you.  Lady  von 
Emmeritz,  my  teacher,  the  old  Skytte,  brought  me 
up  in  the  same  burning  zeal  for  the  evangelical 
doctrines  which  you  now  entertain  for  the  Catho- 
lic. I  hated  the  pope,  at  that  time,  with  all  my 
soul,  as  you  now  hate  Luther:  and  I  prayed  God 
that^  the  day  might  come  when  I  could  dethrone 
Antichrist,  and  convert  all  his  followers  to  the 
true  faith.  Since  then  I  have  not  changed  my 
conviction,  but  I  have  learned  that  the  ways  are 
many,  if  the  spirit  is  one.  I  stand  firm  by  the 
evangelical  faith  I  profess,  for  which  I  am  pre- 
pared to  die  on  the  field,  if  God  so  wills.  But  I 
respect  a  Christian's  belief,  even  if  it  differs  in 
some  points  from  mine;  and  I  know  that  God's 
mercy  is  able  to  bring  a  heart  to  salvation, 
although  the  way  may  be  beset  with  error  and 
danger.  Go,  Lady  von  Emmeritz;  I  forgive  you 
that,  deluded  by  the  monks'  fanatical  teachings, 
you  have  tried  to  turn  the  Lord's  champion  from 
his  struggle  for  the  light.  Go,  poor  child,  and  let 
God's  word  and  your  own  experience  teach  you 
4* 


90  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

not  to  place  reliance  upon  the  saints,  who  are 
nothing  else  but  sinners  like  ourselves,  or  upon 
ima2:es  and  rina^s,  which  are  not  able  to  avert 
the  judgment  of  the  Supreme.  I  thank  you;  for 
you  have  meant  well,  although  in  childish  ignor- 
ance. Be  not  concerned  for  my  life;  it  is  in  the 
hands  of  One  who  knows  to  what  end  He  wishes 
to  use  me." 

King  Gustaf  Adolf  was  grand  as  he  uttered 
these  words. 

Lady  Regina  was  at  once  depressed  and  ele- 
vated by  the  king's  sublime  tolerance.  She  per- 
haps remembered  his  answer  to  the  citizens  of 
Frankfort,  when  they  asked  to  be  allowed  to 
remain  neutral:  "Neutrality  is  a  word  which  I 
cannot  possibly-  endure,  least  of  all  in  the  strife 
between  light  and  darkness,  between  freedom  and 
slavery."  Educated  in  hatred  of  a  different  faith, 
she  could  not  comprehend  how  it  was  possible  that 
the  same  sword  which  destroyed  the  worldly 
supremacy  of  the  Church,  mercifully  lowered  its 
point  before  its  spiritual  power  over  the  heart  and 
conscience. 

The  impassioned  girl  raised  her  tearful  eyes  to 
the  king;  then  her  cheeks  paled  which  had  so 
lately  burned  with  the  flush  of  enthusiasm,  and 
she  stared  with  horror  at  the  scarlet  hangings  of 
the  king's  bed. 

Oxeiistjerna,  who,  more  suspicious  than  Gustaf 
Adolf,  had  constantly,  with  watchful  eyes,  fol- 
lowed the  strange  girl's  motions,  immediately  per- 
ceived her  frightened  glance. 

"  Your  majesty,"  said  he,  in  Swedish,  to  the 
king,  "  be  on  your  guard;  there  are  owls  in  the 
swamp." 

And  without  awaiting  an  answer,  he  drew  his 


THE  KIMG'S  RING.  91' 

sword  and  advanced  resolutely  to  the  sumptuous 
bed — a  gift  of  the  citizens  of  Frankfort,  the 
swelling  eider-down  cushions  of  which  the  royal 
hero  had  had  exchanged  for  a  simple  hair  mattress 
and  a  coarse  blanket  of  Saxony  wool,  such  as  his 
soldiers  used  in  their  winter  quarters. 

"  Hold  !  "  exclaimed  Regina,  almost  involun- 
tarily. But  it  was  too  late.  Oxenstjerna  had,  with 
a  quick  motion,  thrown  back  the  hangings;  and 
behind  them  appeared  a  corpse-like  face,  with 
dark,  burning  eyes,  and  a  head  covered  by  a 
black  leather  calotte.  Another  fold  of  the 
scarlet  was  removed,  disclosing  the  full  figure 
of  a  monk,  with  hands  clasped  over  a  crucifix  of 
silver. 

"  Step  forth,  reverend  father,"  said  Oxenstjerna, 
mockingly.  "  So  modest  a  position  does  not  befit 
such  a  reverend  man.  Your  reverence  has  chosen 
an  unusual  place  to  perform  your  evening  devo- 
tions. If  his  majesty  permits  me,  I  will  procure 
you  several  hearers." 

And,  at  the  sound  of  the  bell.  Lieutenant  Ber- 
tel  entered,  with  two  of  the  body-guard,  who, 
with  their  long  halberds,  were  posted  on  each  side 
of  the  entrance. 

The  king  fastened  upon  Lady  Regina  a  look  in 
which  was  reflected  more  of  sorrow  than  anger. 
It  grieved  him  that  so  young  and  beautiful  a  girl 
could  be  an  accomplice  in  such  black  treason. 

"Mercy,  your  majesty!  mercy  for  my  father 
confessor!  He  is  innocent!  "  exclaimed  the  young 
girl,  beseechingly. 

"  Will  your  majesty  allow  me  to  put  some 
questions  in  your  place?"  asked  Oxenstjerna. 

"  Do  as  seems  best  to  you,  chancellor!  "  said 
the  king. 


92  TIMES    OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"  Well,  then,  what  has  your  reverence  to  do 
here?" 

"  To  restore  a  great  sinner  to  the  arms  of  the 
only  saving  church!  "  replied  the  monk  cunningly, 
with  a  pious  glance  toward  heaven. 

"Indeed!  One  must  acknowledge  that  your 
zeal  is  great.  And  for  so  holy  an  object  you  bring 
with  you  the  image  of  the  crucified  Savior?" 

The  monk  bowed,  and  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross  devoutly. 

"  Your  reverence  is  very  pious.  Hand  me  the 
crucifix,  that  I  may  admire  so  precious  a  treasure." 

The  monk  reluctantly  handed  him  the  image. 

"A  fine  piece  of  work!  It  must  have  been  a 
skillful  artist  who  ornamented  this  sacred  image." 
And  with  this  the  chancellor's  hands  felt  carefully 
all  over  the  crucifix.  Finally,  at  a  pressure  on 
the  breast  of  the  image,  a  sharp-edged  dagger  ap- 
peared. 

"Ah!  your  reverence  is  also  familiar  with  in- 
nocent playthings.  Such  a  well-sharpened  dagger, 
just  suitable  to  pierce  the  heart  of  a  noble  king! 
.  .  .  Miserable  monk!"  continued  Oxenstjerna,  in 
crushina:  tones,  "  do  vou  not  know  that  vour  abom- 
inable  crime  becomes  a  hundred-fold  more  abom- 
inable through  the  impious  means  you  employ?" 

Like  all  the  kings  of  the  Wasa  branch,  Gustaf 
Adolf  was  in  his  youth  a  person  of  hot  temper, 
which  more  than  once  led  him  to  hasty  deeds.  The 
ripening  influence  of  manhood,  and  a  rich  life-ex- 
perience, had  somewhat  cooled  his  fiery  disposi- 
tion; but  occasionally  the  Wasa  blood  boiled 
over.  This  occurred  now.  He  was  great  enough 
to  regard  with  the  composure  of  majesty  a  base 
treason  against  his  life,  upon  which,  however, 
Germany's  weal  or  woe  depended  at  that  moment; 


•     THE  KING'S  RING.  93 


and  he  looked  down  with  calm  contempt  upon  the 
convicted  traitor,  who  stood  there  trembling  before 
his  judge.  But  the  base  misuse  of  the  Savior's 
holy  image,  in  turning  it  as  a  murderous  weapon 
against  one  who,  for  the  pure  evangelical  faith  of 
Jesus  Christ,  was  prepared  to  sacrifice  his  life,  this 
seemed  to  him  so  frightful  a  profanation  of  all  that 
he  considered  sacred  and  precious  in  life,  that  his 
calmness  in  an  instant  changed  to  the  most  violent 
anger.  Large  and  powerful,  like  a  lion  in  a  rage, 
he  stood  before  the  deathly  pale  Jesuit,  who  was 
unable  to  endure  his  fiery  glance. 

"On  your  knees!  "  cried  the  king,  in  thunder- 
ing tones,  and  stamping  liis  foot  on  the  floor  so 
violently  that  the  palace  walls  echoed  the  sound. 

The'Jesuit  fell  down,  as  if  struck  by  lightning, 
and  crept  in  deadly  anguish  to  the  king's  feet,  like 
a  venomous  serpent,  which,  charmed  by  the  con- 
juror's gaze,  impotently  crawls  in  the  dust  at  the 
feet  of  its  conqueror. 

/'  Ye  brood  of  vipers!"  continued  the  king,  be- 
side himself  with  rage,  "how  long  do  ye  expect 
that  the  Almighty  will  tolerate  your  shameful 
mockery?  God  knows  I  have  seen  much.  I  have 
seen  your  Antichrist  and  Rome,  the  Babylonian 
harlot,  prevail  over  the  world  with  all  the  deeds  of 
darkness;  I  have  seen  you,  monks  and  Jesuits, 
poison  the  frightened  conscience  with  your  devil- 
ish doctrines  of  murder  and  villainy  committed  for 
the  o-lory  of  heaven;  but  a  deed  so  black  as  this,  a 
blasphemy  so  opposed  to  all  that  is  most  sacred  in 
heaven  and  on  earth,  I  have  never  before  been 
able  to  imagine.  I  have  forgiven  you  everything. 
You  have  conspired  against  my  life  at  Demmin 
and  elsewhere;  I  have  not  taken  revenge.  You 
have    behaved   worse    than    Turks    and    heathen 


94  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

toward  the  innocent  Lutherans;  wherever  you 
have  had  power,  there  you  have  laid  waste  and 
desecrated  their  churches,  burnt  them  alive  at 
your  heretic  stakes,  driven  them  away  from  house 
and  home,  and,  what  is  more,  you  have  tried  with 
persuasions  and  threats  to  draw  them  over  to  your 
idolatrous  faith,  which  worships  deeds  and  miser- 
able images,  instead  of  the  living  God  and  His 
only  begotten  Son.  All  this  I  have  not  revisited 
upon  your  cloisters  and  churches  and  consciences. 
You  have  gone  free  in  your  belief,  and  no  one  has 
on  that  score  harmed  a  hair  of  your  heads.  But 
now  at  last  I  know  you,  ye  servants  of  the  Devil! 
The  Lord  God  has  given  you  into  my  hand.  I  will 
scatter  you  like  chaff;  I  will  chastise  you,  ye  pro- 
faners  of  sanctuaries,  and  pursue  you  to  the  world's 
end,  so  long  as  this  arm  is  able  to  wield  the  sword 
of  the  Lord  God.  You  have  hitherto  beheld  me 
merciful  and  mild;  you  shall  henceforth  behold  me 
hard  and  formidable.  I  shall,  with  God's  power, 
uproot  you  and  your  cursed  doctrines  from  the 
earth;  and  there  will  be  a  new  order  of  things, 
such  as  the  world  has  not  seen  since  the  fall  of 
Rome." 

And  the  king  paced  the  floor  excitedly,  without 
honoring  with  a  look  tlie  Jesuit  lying  at  his  feet,  or 
the  trembling  Regina,  who,  standing  apart  in  the 
recess  of  a  window,  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 
Oxenstjerna,  always  calm  and  self-possessed,  feared 
some  imprudent  step  from  the  king's  hastiness,  and 
tried  to  avert  the  storm. 

"Will  your  majesty  be  pleased,"  said  he,  "to 
order  Lieutenant  Bertel  to  place  this  monk  in  safe 
custody,  and  let  the  court-martial  make  a  terrifying 
example  of  him?" 

"Grace,  your  majesty!  "  exclaimed  Regina,  who 


THE  KING'S  RING.  95 

cherished  a  blind  affection  for  her  father  confessor. 
"Grace!  I  am  the  only  criminal.  It  is  I  who  per- 
suaded him  to  this  unfortunate  step;  I  alone  deserve 
to  be  punished  for  it." 

At  this  noble  self-sacrifice,  a  ray  of  hope  passed 
over  the  Jesuit's  pale  features,  but  he  did  not  dare 
to  rise.  The  king  paid  no  heed  to  the  suppliant. 
Instead,  his  wrath  turned  upon  the  guard. 

"  Lieutenant  Bertel,"  said  he,  sharply,  "  you 
have  had  command  over  my  body-guard  to-night; 
through  your  neglect  has  this  scoundrel  stolen  in. 
Take  him  to  jail  immediately,  and  answer  with 
your  head  that  he  does  not  escape.  After  that, 
you  can  resume  your  place  in  the  ranks.  You  are 
from  this  moment  degraded  to  be  a  common  sol- 
dier." 

Bertel  gave  the  salute,  and  answered  not  a 
word.  The  loss  of  his  master's  good-will  grieved 
him  more  than  the  loss  of  his  position;  all  the 
more  because  he  had  kept  his  post  with  the  utmost 
vigilance.  How  the  Jesuit  got  in  was  to  him  a 
complete  enigma. 

In  the  meantime  the  latter  had  embraced  the 
king's  knees,  and  begged  for  mercy;  but  in  vain. 
Gustaf  Adolf  pushed  him  back,  and  he  was  car- 
ried off,  gnashing  his  teeth,  and  with  revengeful 
heart. 

The  kinor  then  turned  to  the  tremblinor  g\r\  at 
the  window,  took  her  hand,  and  looked  her  sharply 
in  the  eyes. 

"  Lady,"  said  he,  sternly,  "  it  is  said  that  when 
the  prince  of  darkness  wishes  to  accomplish  some 
especially  atrocious  work  on  the  earth,  he  sends 
out  his  emissaries  dissruised  as  anarels  of  liafht. 
What  do  you  expect  me  to  think  of  you?  " 

Regina  had  sufficient  courage  to  lift  her  eyes 


96  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

to  her  formidable  questioner.  "  I  have  nothing 
more  to  say.  Kill  me,  sire,  but  spare  my  father 
confessor!  "  repeated  she,  with  the  inflexible  reso- 
lution of  fanaticism. 

The  king  gave  her  a  dark  glance,  and 
his  scarcely  subdued  anger  fermented  again  in  his 
breast. 

"  If  your  father,  lady,  had  been  a  righteous 
man,  he  would  have  taught  his  daughter  to  fear 
God,  honor  the  king,  and  speak  the  truth  before 
all  persons.  You  have  tried  to  convert  me;  I  shall, 
in  return,  educate  you,  for  you  seem  to  rteed  it. 
Go!  you  remain  my  prisoner  until  you  have 
learned  truthfulness.  Oxenstjerna,  is  the  old 
stern  Martha  of  Korsholm  still  alive?" 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"  She  shall  have  a  pupil  to  educate.  At  the 
first  opportunity  send  this  girl  to  Finland." 

Regina  left  the  room,  mute  and  proud. 

"  Your  majesty  !  "  said  Oxenstjerna,  with  mild 
reproachfuiness. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

TiiE    Fi:»fNS    AT    LECU-. 

IT    is    necessary,    before    going    farther    in    our 
story,  to  cast  a  hurried  glance  back  at  Frank- 
fort. 

After  Regina's  unfortunate  attempt  to  con- 
vert the  king,  she  was  strictly  guarded,  and  later 
in  the  spring,  when  the  waters  were  free  from  ice, 
sent  to  Finland,  where  our  story  may  one  day  find 


THE   KIXG'S  RING.  97 

her  again.  No  religious  hatred,  still  less  revenge, 
occasioned  the  anger  of  the  usually  magnanimous 
Gustaf  Adolf  toward  this  young  girl.  Abused 
confidence  wounds  a  noble  heart  deeply,  and 
Regina  did  nothing  to  remove  the  conviction  of 
her  guilt  from  the  king's  mind.  She  strengthened 
it  more  and  more  through  her  fanaticism;  and 
hate  still  struggled  in  her  young  heart  for  the 
place  which  should  have  belonged  to  love  alone. 

An  inexplicable  event  increased  the  king's 
resentment.  The  same  night  that  the  Jesuit 
Father  Hieronymus  was  taken  by  Bertel  to  the 
state  prison,  to  be  hung  the  ne.xt  day,  this  danger- 
ous monk  escaped,  no  one  knew  how.  These 
men  of  darkness  had  everywhere  their  allies  and 
their  secret  passages.  That  very  night  a  hitherto 
unknown  secret  door  was  discovered  to  the  king's 
bedchamber.  Bertel's  innocence  of  course  thus 
came  to  light;  but  his  new  offence,  in  allowing  his 
prisoner  to  escape,  again  excited  the  king's  anger; 
and  the  young  lieutenant  retained  his  place  in  the 
ranks  as  a  common  soldier. 

In  the  middle  of  February,  1632,  the  king 
began  to  prepare  for  decampment.  He  captured 
the  stronghold  at  Kreutznach  in  March,  after  a 
two  weeks'  seige,  and  left  the  queen,  as  well  as 
Axel  Oxenstjerna,  in  Mayence.  But  Tilly  had  in 
the  meantime  surprised  Gustaf  Horn  at  Bamberg, 
and  done  great  damage.  The  king  marched  after 
Tilly  down  the  Danube,  and  tried  to  invade 
Bavaria  by  crossing  the  Lech.  In  vain  did  his, 
generals  object  that  the  stream  was  too  deep  and 
rapid,  and  that  the  elector,  with  Tilly,  Altringer, 
and  twenty-two  thousand  men,  awaited  him  on  the 
opposite  shore.  The  king  spoke  Alexander's 
words  at  Granicus:  "  Shall  we,  who  have  crossed 
G  5 


98  •        TIMES  OF   GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

the  Elbe,  Oder,  and  Rhine,  nay,  even  the  Baltic 
itself,  stop  disheartened  at  the  river  Lech?"  And 
the  passage  was  decided. 

Long  did  the  king  ride  along  the  bank  to  seek 
a  suitable  place.  Finally  he  found  it  at  the  bend 
of  the  stream.  One  of  his  dragoons  disguised 
himself  as  a  peasant,  pretended  that  he  wished  to 
go  over,  and  lured  the  information  from  the  credu- 
lous Bavarians  that  the  Lech  was  twenty-two  feet 
deep.  Some  peasant  huts  were  torn  down,  and  of 
the  timber  trestles  were  constructed  of  just  the 
right  height  for  a  bridge;  four  batteries,  with 
seventy  cannon  in  all,  were  erected  on  the  bank, 
and  breastworks  thrown  up  for  the  sharpshooters; 
while  a  thick  smoke  of  green  wood  and  damp 
straw  obscured  the  whole  vicinity. 

But  Tilly  was  old  and  sagacious.  In  a  short 
time  he  stood,  with  his  whole  army,  in  the  woods 
on  the  other  shore,  where  he  built  strong  fortifica- 
tions, and  dug  deep  trenches  in  the  loose  soil,  from 
which  his  musketeers  directed  a  murderous  fire. 
On  the  3d  of  April,  the  Swedish  cannon  began  to 
retort,  and  swept  clean  the  opposite  tongue  of  land. 
By  the  5th  of  April  the  trestles  had  been  laid  right 
under  the  fire  of  the  enemy.  Planks  were  now 
thrown  across,  and,  as  usual,  the  Finns  were  sent 
to  the  front.  Three  hundred  of  their  foot-soldiers, 
all  volunteers — the  little  dumpy  Larsson  and  the 
daring  Savolaxen,  Paavo  Lyydikiiin,  at  the  head — 
were  ordered  to  cross  the  planks  and  throw  up 
works  on  the  opposite  shore  for  the  defence  of  the 
bridge;  and  to  each  and  all  was  promised  a  hand- 
some reward.  It  was  a  solemn  and  decisive  mo- 
ment, upon  which  Bavaria's  fate  depended;  for 
Tilly's  balls  might  at  any  moment  strike  the 
bridge  and  prevent  the  crossing. 


THE  KING'S  RING.  99 

The  Finns  laid  aside  tiieir  arms,  took  up  spades 
and  pickaxes,  and  cheering  as  they  went,  rushed 
at  full  speed  over  the  planks.  The  most  terrific 
cross-tire  from  all  Tilly's  batteries  was  immediately 
directed  upon  this  single  point.  Every  instant  a 
ball  fell  in  the  water,  spun  round  in  a  seething 
foam,  and  whizzed  against  the  frail  bridge;  an- 
other fell  short  of  its  aim  and  buried  itself  in  the 
sands  of  its  own  shore;  others  swept  in  high  cir- 
cles over  the  swiftly  advancing  Finns,  dropping 
among  them  and  scattering  in  the  way  their  muti- 
lated limbs.  It  is  not  stated  how  many  of  the 
three  hundred  got  over;  for,  in  fact,  those  who 
came  had  no  time  either  to  look  back  or  to  count 
their  number.  They  went  vigorously  to  work  with 
their  spades  and  picks,  and  in  a  short  time  had 
thrown  up  an  earthwork  which  in  some  measure 
protected  their  front,  while  the  flanks  continued 
to  be  exposed  to  the  fire  from  the  batteries. 

Tilly  realized  too  well  the  importance  of  this 
position  and  redoubled  his  fire.  The  Swedes  like- 
wise understood  the  exigency  of  the  moment,  and 
riddled  the  opposite  wood  with  a  hail  of  balls, 
which  at  one  instant  struck  against  the  stones, 
making  the  sparks  fly,  then  mowed  down  the  tree- 
tops  far  around,  and  whirled  the  branches  and 
fragments  over  the  ranks  of  the  Bavarians,  who 
stood  underneath,  awaiting  the  order  to  advance. 
The  king  himself,  in  order  to  encourage  his  men, 
hurried  to  the  batteries,  and  directed  with  his  own 
hand  no  less  than  sixty  shots.  The  noise  of  the 
cannon  was  so  great  that  it  was  heard  several  miles 
in  the  interior  of  the  terrified  Bavaria. 

The  ranks  of  the  advancing  Finns  had  now  fear- 
fullv  withered;  but  not  until  the  entrenchment  was 
finished  did  those  who  survived  look  about  them. 


100  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

and  become  aware  that  their  number  had  melted 
to  less  than  half;  a  hundred  or  more  lay  bleeding 
on  the  ground,  and  many  the  flood  had  swallowed 
up.  But  at  that  moment  the  king  commanded  the 
vouno-  Karl  Gustaf  Wrano;el,  afterwards  so  cele- 
brated,  to  hasten  to  the  relief.  The  Firms,  beside 
themselves  with  pride  at  their  countrymen's  coui'- 
age  and  anxiety  for  their  fate,  clamored  to  be  led 
into  the  fight;  and  in  a  trice  Wrangel  was  sur- 
rounded by  three  hundred  Finnish  volunteers,  with 
whom  he  heroically  sprang  over  the  shaking  planks. 
They  were  greeted  with  loud  hurrahs  from  those  on 
the  other  side.  The  gallant  Duke  Bernhard,  who, 
like  the  king,  had  a  partiality  for  the  Finns,  re- 
quested and  received  permission  to  make  a  diver- 
sion for  their  benefit.  Followed  by  a  troop,  of 
Finnish  cavalry,  he  found,  at  a  little  distance,  a 
fording-place  in  the  river,  passed  over  successfully, 
and,  with  boundless  courage,  closed  in  upon  the 
enemy's  right  flank.  The  Bavarians,  whose  atten- 
tion was  fastened  upon  the  bridge,  were  completely 
surprised,  fell  into  disorder,  notwithstanding  their 
great  superiority  of  numbers,  and  oiFered  a  weak 
defence.  Terribly  did  Duke  Bernhard's  little  band 
ravage  the  broken  lines;  and  before-  the  enemy  had 
time  to  recover  their  senses,  he  and  his  cavalry  had 
cut  their  way  to  the  other  Finns  at  the  end 
of  the  bridge. 

It  was  through  these  bold  and  crushing  cavalry 
charges  that  the  Finns  obtained  the  dreaded  name, 
Sackapeliter.,  from  the  words  '•'■Hakka  pddUe!'''' 
("  Hew  down!  ")  with  which  they  encouraged  each 
other  in  the  OTislaught  against  the  enemy. 

Stimulated  by  the  Finns'  success,  one  detach- 
ment after  another  of  both  Swedish  and  German 
infantry,   now    commenced    to   cross    the     bridge. 


THE   KING'S  RING.  101 


Tilly,  who  had  avoided  exposing  his  men  to  the 
murderous  fire  of  the  Swedes  until  the  very  last 
moment,  now  sent  Altring-er,  with  a  strong  force  of 
infantry,  to  take  the  fortification  at  the  end  of  the 
bridge,  and  drive  back  the  new-comers.  The  Ba- 
varians advanced  at  full  speed,  but  had  not  gone 
far  before  whole  ranks  fell  to  the  ground  under 
the  shower  of  bullets.  Still,  their  country  was  at 
stake;  and  all  who  had  life  and  strength  dashed 
with  fury  against  the  Finnish  entrenchment. 
Wrangel's  young  and  heroic  heart  beat  violently; 
his  men  stood  immovable.  The  crisis  was  at 
hand.  Like  a  dark  cloud  stormed  the  enemy's 
host,  momently  decreasing,  but  yet  four  or  five 
thousand  strong,  against  the  outwork.  The  Finns 
gave  them  a  warm  welcome:  at  fifty  paces  their 
long  muskets  were  discharged;  every  shot  felled 
its  man.  The  Bavarians  faltered  for  a  moment; 
most  of  them  were  new  recruits.  They  wavered. 
The  Finns  had  time  to  reload;  again  a  volley,  and 
the  whole  body  of  the  assailants  dispersed  in  wild 
flight  along  the  shore.  Altringer  hurried  forward, 
collected  them  again,  and  led  them  for  the  second 
time  to  the  onset;  at  that  instant  a  cannon-ball 
whizzed  so  close  by  his  ear  that  he  fell  senseless  to 
the  earth.  For  the  second  time  the  Bavarians  gave 
way;  Till}'  saw  this  from  his  entrenchments,  and 
sent  his  prime  favorites,  the  old  Wallachians,  down 
to  the  shore.  Even  the  Wallachians  could  not 
maintain  their  ground,  so  scathing  was  the  fire. 
Then  Tilly  himself  seized  a  standard,  and  flew  at 
the  head  of  his  warriors  toward  the  Finnish  works. 
He  had  taken  but  a  few  steps  before  he  sank 
down,  struck  by  a  falconet-ball,  which  crushed  one 
leg.     The  old  general  was  carried  senseless  from 


10-2  TIMES   OF   GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

the  field,  and  died  two  weeks  afterwards,  the  "-iOch 
of  April,  in  lugolstadt. 

The  Bavarian  army,  which  had  now  lost  its 
best  commander,  became  utterly  disorganized. 
The  elector,  present  in  person,  retreated  under 
cover  of  the  darkness,  leaving  two  thousand  dead 
on  the  battlefield,  and  the  way  open  for  the  Swedes 
to  the  heart  of  Bavaria. 

The  following  day  the  whole  Swedish  army 
crossed  the  Lech.  The  king,  with  a  liberal  hand, 
distributed  rewards  to  his  brave  men.  Among 
these  was  a  horseman  who  had  accompanied  Duke 
Bernhard,  and  who  was  spoken  of  by  him  in  the 
highest  terms.  This  horseman  was  Bertel;  three 
wounds  —  all  fortunately  slight  —  confirmed  the 
duke's  account.  Bertel  regained  his  rank,  but  not 
what  he  most  valued,  the  king's  favor  and  confi- 
dence. Yet  he  resolved  to  win  this  back,  even  at 
the  cost  of  his  life. 

Then  Gustaf  Adolf  marched  to  Auorsburor  which 
took  the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  gave  brilliant 
festivals  in  his  honor.  Rumor,  which  joined  the 
names  Grustafva  Augusta,  whispered  that  the  king, 
here,  in  the  capital  of  his  future  German  empire, 
another  Hannibal  in  Capui,  abandoned  himself  to 
effeminacy  and  pleasure.  But  rumor  was  mis- 
taken. Gustaf  Adolf  was  only  taking  a  breathing 
spell,  and  revolving  still  more  daring  projects  in 
his  brain.  But  from  this  time  shadows  hung  about 
the  pathway  of  the  king.  The  death-angel  went 
before  him  with  drawn  sword,  and  aimed,  now 
here,  now  there,  a  blow,  as  if  constantly  to  cry  in 
his  ear,  "  Mortal,  remember  thou  art  not  a  god  I  " 

One  coaid  almost  believe,  now  that  ambition 
began  to  gain  ascendencv  over  the  king's  mind, 
and  he  was  no  longer  actuated  solely  by  the  sacred 


THE  JCIXG'S  J:IXG.  103 

struororle  for  faith,  that  the  powers  of  evil  had  re- 
doubled  their  dark  designs  upon  mm.  A  secret 
but  formidable  enemy  went  everywhere  in  his 
road  and  meted  to  him  death,  but  as  yet  always 
in  vain.  At  the  daring  though  unsuccessful 
attack  on  Ingolstadt,  there  was,  so  Fryxell  relates, 
a  cannon  on  the  ramparts,  called  "  Fikonet," 
celebrated  for  shooting  both  far  and  sure.  The 
cannoneer  on  the  ramparts  saw,  out  on  the  field,  a 
man  with  a  waving  plume,  riding  on  a  proud 
charger,  and  surrounded  by  attentive  followers. 
"  There,"  said  he,  "  rides  a  fine  lord;  but  I  shall 
soon  put  an  end  to  his  career;  "  with  which  he 
aimed  and  discharged  "  Fikonet."  The  ball  threw 
down  horse  and  rider;  the  rest  hastened  to  the 
spot  in  alarm;  but  the  king,  for  it  was  he,  raised 
himself  up,  covered  with  blood  and  dust,  but 
unharmed,  from  under  the  crushed  horse,  as  he 
exclaimed:  "Not  yet  is  the  apple  ripel"'  The 
citizens  of  Ingolstadt  afterwards  exhumed  the 
dead  horse,  and  stuffed  his  skin,  as  a  perpetual 
remembrance.  Shortly  afterwards  the  king  was 
riding  at  the  side  of  the  young  Margrave  of  Baden 
Durlach,  who  had  so  lately  been  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  cavaliers  at  the  balls  in  Augsburg.  A 
cannon-ball  went  whizzing  quite  near  the  king; 
and,  when  he  looked  around,  he  saw  the  margrave 
sink  headless  from  the  saddle. 


104  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

NEW    ADVENTUKES. 

THE  king  turned  from  Ingolstadt  to  Laridshut, 
in  the  interior  of  Bavaria.  The  farther  he 
penetrated  into  this  land,  which  had  never  before 
seen  a  heretic  army  within  its  borders,  the  darker 
became  the  fanaticism  of  the  inhabitants,  the 
wilder  their  resistance.  Great  masses  of  country- 
people  collected,  commanded  by  their  monks,  and 
lay  in  wait  everywhere  for  the  Swedes,  pouncing 
on  all  they  came  across,  and  torturing  their  prison- 
ers in  all  conceivable  ways.  The  king's  people,  on 
their  side,  arrogant  from  success,  and  irritated  by 
these  cruelties,  began  to  do  discredit  to  their 
honorable  reputation  for  military  discipline,  and 
visited  with  bloody  revenge  the  regions  they 
marched  through.  Far  and  wide,  in  the  Swedish 
army's  track,  raged  murder  and  violence;  and  woe 
unto  the  troops  who,  not  sufficiently  strong  in 
numbers,  ventured  any  distance  from  the  main 
force ! 

Arriving  still  deeper  in  the  country,  the  king 
one  day  wished  to  send  important  orders  to  Baner, 
who,  in  slower  marches,  covered  the  retreat  from 
Ingolstadt.  Owing  to  the  insecurity  of  the  coun- 
try, such  a  mission  was  extremely  dangerous;  and. 
the  king  did  not  care  to  employ  a  large  force  for 
it.  A  young  Finnish  officer  volunteered  to  exe- 
cute the  charge,  accompanied  by  but  two  horse- 
men.    The  king  consented;  and  the  rash  troopers 


THE  KING'S  RING.  105 

started  off,  late  one  evening  in  May,  on  the  peril- 
ous undertakinof. 

o 

The  young-  officer  was  none  other  than  our  old 
acquaintance,  Bertel,  attended  by  the  East  Both- 
nian,  Pekka,  and  the  Tavastlander,  Witikka.  The 
night  was  dark  and  cloudy;  the  three  horsemen 
rode  cautiously  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  as  much 
afraid  of  getting  lost  in  a  strange  country  as  of 
being  struck  by  the  balls  of  lurking  Bavarians  in 
the  edge  of  the  woods.  A  fine  rain  made  the 
roads,  already  cut  up  by  the  advancing  baggage- 
wagons,  nearly  impassable;  and  at  every  step 
they  were  in  dread  of  stumbling  over  a  stone  or  of 
sinking  into  the  deep  ruts. 

"  See  here!  "  said  Witikka,  jokingly,  to  the  com- 
panion at  his  side;  "you  are  a  Pohjalaine,  and 
consequently  can  practice  sorcery?" 

"  I  would  n't  be  much  of  a  man  if  I  could  n't 
do  that,"  responded  Pekka,  in  the  same  tone. 

"  Then  transport  us  in  a  flash  to  Hattimala 
Heights,  and  manage  so  that  we  may  there,  beneath 
the  hill,  see  the  light  glimmer  from  Ilameenlinna 
Castle.  There  sits  a  gypsy  girl  that  I  used  to 
love;  and  I  would  rather  be  at  her  side  to-nio-ht 
than  here  in  the  mud-puddles  of  this  cursed 
wood," 

"  That  is  a  small  matter  for  me,"  answered 
Pekka,  laughing  loudly.  "Look!  there  you  see 
the  light  shine  from  Hameenlinna." 

His  comrade  strained  his  eyes,  uncertain 
whether  the  East  Bothnian  spoke  jest  or  earnest, 
for  the  latter  he  considered  fully  as  possible  as  the 
former.  In  reality,  a  gleam  of  light  was  seen  in 
the  valley  below;  but  the  Tavastlander  well  knew 
that  he  was  still  two  hundred  miles  from  his  native 
village.     The  horses  stopped  suddenly,  and  could 


106  TIMES   OF   GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

not  be  induced  to  go  further.  A  close  barricade 
of  felled  trees  directly  across  the  road  made  an 
insuperable  obstacle  to  their  progress. 

"  Be  still!  "  whispered  Bertel,  "  I  heard  a  noise 
in  the  underbrush." 

The  horsemen  turned  off  a  little,  stopped,  and 
bent  down  on  the  horses'  backs  in  breathless  si- 
lence. On  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  were 
heard  footsteps  and  the  rustling  of  broken  twigs. 

"  They  must  be  here  within  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,"  said  a  voice  with  the  well-known  Bavarian 
accent. 

"  How  many  are  there?  " 

"  Thirty  horsemen,  with  ten  or  twelve  pack- 
horses.  They  started  at  twilight  from  Geisenfeld, 
and  bring  with  them  a  girl  prisoner." 

"And  how  many  are  we?  " 

"About  fifty  with  guns,  and  seventy  or  eighty 
with  axes  and  pitchforks." 

"  Good!  No  shot  must  be  fired  before  they  are 
within  three  steps." 

At  this  moment  Bertel's  horse  neighed.  He 
was  a  little  beast,  but  lively  and  strong,  called 
Lappen,  and  brought  from  Rovaniemi. 

"  Who  goes  there?  "  cried  a  voice  from  the  road. 

"  Swede!  "  answered  Bertel,  boldly,  as  at 
WUrtzburg's  sally-port;  he  fired  off  a  pistol  in  the 
direction  of  the  voice,  and  by  the  flash  perceived 
a  large  body  of  peasants,  stationed  inside  the  bar- 
ricade. Then  he  turned  his  horse,  urged  his  com- 
rades to  follow,  and  galloped  rapidly  back  towards 
Landshut. 

But  the  flash  had  also  revealed  the  three  horse- 
men to  the  peasants;  and  they  hastened  to  stop 
their  flight.  Bertel,  with  Lappen,  succeeded  in 
getting  away;  but  Witikka's  horse  stumbled  over 


THE  KING'S  RING.  107 

a  tree-stump,  and  Pekka's  fat  farm-horse,  strug- 
gling to  get  out  of  the  mud,  received  a  pike-thrust 
in  the  breast. 

Bertel,  who  saw  the  danger  of  his  comrades, 
and  could  not  persuade  himself  to  abandon  them, 
swung  round,  cut  down  the  nearest  peasant,  seized 
Pekka's  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  tried  to  drag  him 
up,  at  the  same  time  calling  to  Witikka  to  leave 
his  horse  and  jump  on  Lappen's  back.  This  bold 
attempt  almost  succeeded.  The  three  were  already 
on  their  way  again,  when  suddenly  something 
whistled  through  the  air;  a  lasso  descended  around 
Bertel's  shoulders  and  pulled  him  violently  from 
his  horse.  Witikka  fell  at  the  same  moment. 
Lappen,  freed  from  his  double  burden,  galloped 
away  with  loose  reins;  and,  whether  willingly  or 
unwillingly,  Pekka  also  followed.  Bertel  and 
Witikka  were  in  a  twinkling  overpowered  and 
pinioned. 

"  Hang  the  dogs  before  the  others  come!  "  cried 
one. 

"  With  the  head  down]  "  proposed  another. 

"And  a  little  fire  underneath!"  joined  in  a 
third. 

"No  fire!  No  noise!"  commanded  a  fourth, 
who  seemed  to  have  most  authority.  "  Hark,  com- 
rades," whispered  he  to  the  prisoners  lying  on 
the  ground,  "  was  it  Finnish  you  spoke  together?  " 

"  Go  to  the  devil!  "  growled  Witikka. 

"  Maledicti,  maledicti  Fennonesl  "  exclaimed 
the  former  voice  in  the  darkness.  "  You  belong 
to  me!  " 

"  They  are  coming  now!  "  exclaimed  one  of  the 
gang;  and,  indeed,  horses'  hoofs  were  heard  on  the 
road  to  Ingolstadt.  The  peasants  kept  still,  and, 
for     greater     security,     gagged    their     prisoners' 


108  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

mouths.  Those  approaching  bore  torches,  and  ap- 
peared to  be  a  troop  of  German  marauders  return- 
ing from  a  foraging  expedition.  In  consequence 
of  their  rapid  pace  they  did  not  become  aware  of 
the  barricade  until  they  were  close  upon  it,  and  at 
that  instant  a  destructive  volley  thundered  over 
the  hewn  trunks  of  the  trees.  Ten  or  twelve  of 
the  foremost  dropped  to  the  ground;  the  horses 
reared,  and  dragged  the  fallen  men  by  the  stirrups; 
the  whole  troop  fell  into  confusion.  A  part 
wheeled  round  immediately,  riding  over  each 
other  and  the  pack-horses;  others  discharged  their 
pistols,  hap-hazard,  at  the  concealed  enemy.  The 
peasants  rushed  forth  from  their  ambush,  threw 
themselves  with  fury  upon  those  Avho  remained, 
and  with  their  nooses  jerked  them  from  the  horses' 
backs.  The  men  defended  themselves  with  the 
courage  of  desperation,  but  in  vain.  In  a  very 
few  minxites  the  whole  band  were  scattered;  eight 
or  ten  had  escaped,  fifteen  lay  bleeding  on  the 
road,  and  six  or  seven  were  captured,  as  well  as 
most  of  the  spoils  they  had  with  them.  Only  four 
of  the  peasants  had  fallen.  The  revenge  of  the 
Bavarians  was  inhuman.  They  discharged  pow- 
der in  their  prisoners'  faces,  blackening  them  past 
recognition,buried  them  half-way  in  the  wet  ground, 
and  stoned  them  slowly  to  death. 

When  this  cruel  work  was  finished,  they  started 
to  take  the  plunder  to  a  safe  place.  Bertel  and 
his  companion  were  cast,  bound,  on  one  of  the 
captured  horses;  and  they  began  the  march  into 
the  woodso  After  a  while  a  halt  was  made  at  a 
solitary  house.  The  prisoners  were  dragged  in, 
and  laid  on  the  floor  of  a  chamber,  while  the  peas- 
ants, in  the  large  room  adjoining,  wild  with  exulta- 
tion over  their  conquest,  refreshed  themselves  with 


THE  KING'S  RING.  109 

the  wine  they  had  captured,,  Into  the  chamber 
now  entered  a  monk,  deadly  pale,  wearing  at  his 
side  a  sword  in  a  rope  of  hemp.  With  delight  he 
placed  the  torch  near  the  prisoners'  heads,  took 
away  the  gags  from  their  mouths,  and  regarded 
their  features  in  silence. 

"  If  I  see  aright,"  said  he,  at  last,  with  a  smile 
of  scorn,  "  it  is  Lieutenant  Bertel,  of  the  king's 
body-guard  ?  " 

Bertel  looked  up,  and  recognized  the  Jesuit 
Hieronymus. 

"  Welcome,  lieutenant;  and  thanks  for  the  last 
time  we  met!  So  rare  a  guest  must  be  treated  in 
the  best  manner.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  also 
seen  your  comrade  before,"  continued  he,  pointing 
to  Wltikka. 

The  wild  Tavastlander  looked  him  steadily  in 
the  eyes,  and  twisted  his  mouth  into  a  defiant 
grin. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  your  ears,  monk?" 
cried  he,  mockingly.  "x\way  with  tlie  calotte,  hen- 
thief,  and  let  us  see  whether  any  asses'  ears  have 
grown  there!  " 

At  this  reckless  reminder  of  the  battlefield  at 
Breitenfeld,  the  Jesuit's  bi'ow  was  shadowed  by  a 
dark  cloud;  a  flush  passed  over  his  livid  features, 
and  his  lips  were  drawn  in  with  rage. 

"Think  of  your  own  ears,  comrade! "  said  he. 
^'- Anathetna  maranatlia!  they  will  soon  have  heard 
enough  in  this  world." 

At  these  words  the  Jesuit  clapped  his  hands 
twice;  when  in  came  a  blacksmith,  with  his  leather 
apron,  carrying  a  red-hot  pair  of  tongs,  which  he 
kept  aglow  in  the  furnace  close  at  hand. 

"  Well,  comrade,  are  your  ears  getting  hot?" 
taunted  the  monk,  grimly. 


no  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Witikka  answered  defiantly: 

"You  fancy  yourself  very  smart;  and  yet  you 
are  nothing  compared  to  the  devil.  Your  lord  and 
master  doesn't  need  any  tongs,  only  claws." 

"•  The  right  ear,"  said  the  Jesuit,  laconically. 
The  smith  put  the  tongs  to  the  Tavastlander's 
head.  Witikka  smiled  contemptuously.  A  hasty 
flush  colored  his  brown  cheeks,  but  only  for  .an 
instant.     He  had  now  but  one  ear. 

"  If  you  will  adjure  your  faith,  acknowledge  the 
pope,  and  curse  Luther,  then  you  may  keep  your 
other  ear." 

"  Niggard!  "  burst  out  the  Tavastlander.  "Your 
lord  and  master  used  to  offer  lands  and  kingdoms, 
and  you  only  offer  me  a  miserable  ear!  " 

"The  left  ear!"  continued  the  Jesuit,  coolly. 

The  smith  did  as  commanded.  The  tortured 
soldier  smiled, 

"Monk,  this  is  infamous!"  exclaimed  Bertel, 
lying  bound  at  the  side  of  Witikka.  "  Kill  us,  if 
you  will,  but  do  it  quickly!  " 

"  Who  has  said  that  I  intend  to  kill  you?"  re- 
sponded Father  Hieronymus,  smiling.  "On  the 
contrary,  it  depends  upon  yourself  whether  you 
regain  freedom,  unharmed,  this  very  night." 

"And  what  do  you  ask  of  me?" 

"  You  are  a  brave  young  man,  Lieutenant  Ber- 
tel. It  pains  me  that  the  king  has  so  shamefully 
and  unjustly  deprived  you  of  the  rank  you  earned 
with  your  blood." 

"Ah,  indeed  !  it  pains  you!     Well,  what  then?" 

"In  your  place,  I  would  take  revenge." 

"Revenge?    Oh,  yes!    I  have  thought  of  it." 

"You  belong  to  Gustaf  Adolf's  body-guard. 
Do  you  know,  young  friend,  what  the  true-believ- 


THE   KING'S  RING.  \\\ 

ing  Catholic  princes  would  give  the  one  who  deliv- 
ered the  king,  dead  or  living,  into  their  hands?" 

"  How  should  I  know,  reverend  father?" 

"A  prince's  domain,  if  he  were  a  nobleman; 
fifty  thousand  ducats  if  he  were  a  commoner." 

"  Reverend  father,  that  is  very  little  for  so  great 
a  service." 

"  Choose  between  death  and  a  princely  recom- 
pense! " 

"It  was  this,  then,  that  you  sought,  reverend 
father?" 

"  Do  as  yt)u  choose;  when  you  have  reflected 
upon  the  matter,  we  can  talk  further  together. 
This  time  you  can  purchase  life  and  liberty  at  a 
lower  rate — for  a  trifle." 

"What  may  it  be,  reverend  father?" 

"  Listen  to  me.  I  demand  oidy  a  sacred  oath 
that  you  will  do  me. an  insignificant  service.  King 
Gustaf  Adolf  wears  on  his  rio;ht  forefino;er  a  little 
copper  ring.  It  is  to  him  of  slight  value;  but  for 
me,  voung  friend,  it  has  higher  importance.  I  am 
...  a  curiosity-seeker;  I  would  like  to  possess  a 
memento  of  a  king  whom  I  must  hate  as  an  enemy 
but  admire  as  a  man," 

"And  the  ring?" 

"  The  ring  you  must  swear  to  put  into  my  hand, 
by  some  means  or  other,  before  the  next  new  moon. 
Do  this,  and  you  are  free!  " 

"  Oh — only  a  little  sin  against  the  seventh  com- 
mandment? And  you  have  absolution  all  read}" — 
is  it  not  so?  Go,  miserable  thief  !  and  thank  your 
good  fortune  that  my  arm  is  bound.  By  Heaven! 
otherwise  it  would  teach  ^jou  respect  for  a  soldier's 
honor!  '' 

"Be   quiet,   young  man;    remember  that  your 


112  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

life  is  in  mv  hands.  AVlien  I  have  finished  with 
your  companion,  I  shall  bes^in  with  you." 

Bertel  only  gave  him  a  contemptuous  look. 

"  Smith,  to  work!"  muttered  the  Jesuit,  under 
his  breath.  And  the  smith  again  drew  his  white- 
hot  toiio's  from  the  fire. 

At  that  instant  a  confused  uproar  arose  among 
the  peasants  in  the  outer  room.  Cries  of,  "  To 
arms!  The  Swedes  are  upon  us! "  were  heard, 
and  just  then  the  door  was  thrown  open.  Part  of 
the  peasants  seized  their  guns;  others  lay  asleep 
and  drunk  on  the  floor;  but  without  was  plainly 
heard  the  Swedish  officer's  command: 

"  Set  fire  to  the  house,  boys;  we  have  them  all 
in  a  trap!  " 

At  these  words  the  Jesuit  jumped  out  of  the 
window. 

A  hot  but  brief  struggle  now  ensued  at  the 
door.  The  peasants  soon  yielded,  and  begged  for 
quarter.  In  answer,  the  foremost  were  knocked 
down  with  halberds,  the  rest  bound,  the  cabin  was 
plundered  of  the  pillage  jn>t  brought  there,  and 
Bertel  and  his  maltreated  comrade  were  loosed 
from  their  bonds. 

"  Is  that  you,  Larsson?  "  exclaimed  the  freed 
prisoner,  gladly. 

"Thunder  and  lightning!  Is  it  you,  Bertel? 
Is  this  where  you  wished  to  deliver  the  king's 
orders?" 

"  And  you  yourself  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  know  that  1  am  a  child  of  fortune. 
I  am  sent  to  guard  a  train;  I  meet  on  the  road 
some  rascally  marauders,  who  speak  of  an  ambus- 
cade here  in  the  wood^,  I  hurry  in  the  direction 
from  whence  they  came,  deliver  a  brave  comrade, 


THE  KING'S  RING.  113 

and  gain  a  pretty  girl.  Look  at  her — cheeks  like 
a  tulip,  eyes  to  buy  fish   with!  " 

Bertel  turned  round,  and  saw  at  his  side  a 
trernblina:  ffirl,  half  faintinjj  with  frioht. 

"It  is  Katchen,  Lady  Regina's  maid!"  ex- 
claimed Bertel,  who  had  many  times  seen  the 
light  hearted  girl  with  her  gloomy  mistress. 

"Save  me,  lieutenant!  save  me!"  cried  the  girl, 
seizing  his  arm  violently.  "  They  have  snatched 
me  by  force  from  my  aunt's  house." 

"Larsson,  I  beg  of  you,  give  me  the  girl!  " 

"Does  the  devil  ride  you?  Do  you  mean  to 
take  my  girl  from  me?" 

"  Let  her  go,  I  beg  you!  " 

"]n  a  few  weeks  certainly  I  will;  but  release 
her,  I  tell  you,  or  ...  "  The  hot-blooded 
little  champion  raised  his  long  sword,  upon  which 
he  had  so  lately  impaled  peasants. 

"The  cabin  is  on  fire!"  was  cried  at  that  in- 
stant, in  all  directions;  and  a  thick,  stifling  smoke 
proved  the  reality  of  the  danger.  Bertel  started 
out  with  the  girl,  Larsson  after  him;  and  the  heat 
of  anger  passed  off  before  that  of  the  fire.  Not 
until  they  saw  the  cabin  in  a  blaze  from  outside, 
did  it  enter  Bertel's  mind  that  the  house  was  full 
of  people — about  thirty  peasants,  bound  hand  and 
foot. 

"Come,  make  haste;  let  us  save  the  poor 
creatures!  "  exclaimed  he. 

"Are  you  crazy?"  retorted  Larsson,  laughing. 
"It  is  only  some  of  the  lubbers  wlio  have  just 
taken  the  lives  of  so  many  of  our  brave  fellows. 
Come!  fire  up,  boys,  that  the  ale-drinkers  may  not 
freeze  from  good  cheer." 

It  was  now  too  late  to  afford  any  help.  The 
unfortunate  Bavarians  fell  victims  to  the  barbarous 
H  5* 


114  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

■\var-system  of  the  time  which  so  often  permitted 
one  cruelty  to  outdo  another.  With  abhorrence 
we  turn  away  from  the  wild  scenes  of  those  times, 
and  hasten  to  the  grander  and  more  inspiring 
picture  of  the  Swedish  lion's  last  struggle. 


CHAPTER   VITI. 

NTJEEMBERG     AN"D     LiiTZEN". 

LIKE  wave  heaped  upon  wave  in  a  roaring 
rapid,  events  now  crowded  themselves;  and 
our  narrative,  pressed  within  narrow  limits,  is 
forced  to  hurry  forward  with  the  rapid's  swiftness. 
We  must  hasten  over  the  roost  remarkable  events  in 
a  remarkable  time,  to  find  again  the  thread  of  our 
storv,  slender,  but  runninsr  throuo^h  manv  srenera- 
tions  and  vicissitudes — the  kinor',  rinor. 

Wallenstein  the  Terrible  had  become  reconciled 
with  the  emperor,  collected  a  formidable  army, 
and  turned  like  a  dark  thunder-cloud  toward  the 
wealthy  city  of  Nuremberg.  Gustaf  Adolf  broke 
off  his  victorious  career  in  Bavaria,  to  hurry  to 
meet  him;  and  there,  in  two  strongly-fortified  en- 
campments, both  armies  stood  motionless,  opposite 
each  other,  for  eleven  weeks — the  panther  and  the 
lion,  crouching  ready  for  a  spring,  and  watching 
sharply  each  other's  slightest  movement.  The 
whole  region  was  drained  for  the  subsistence  of 
these  armies,  and  provisions  were  constantly 
brought  in  from  a  distance  by  foraging  parties. 
Among  the  Imperialists,  Isolani's  Croats  distin- 
guished   themselves    in    this    work;    among    the 


THE  KING'S  RING.  115 

Swedes,   Taupadel's    dragoons    and    Stalhandske's 
Finnish  cavalry. 

Famine,  the  heat  of  summer,  disease,  and  the 
depredations  of  the  German  soldiers,  sjoread  want 
and  misery  everywhere.  Gustaf  Adolf,  who,  after 
joining  Oxenstjerna's  and  Baner's  combined  armies, 
had  a  force  of  fifty  thousand  men,  marched,  on  the 
24th  of  August,  1G32,  against  \yallenstein,  who,  with 
sixty  thousand  men,  stood  behind  impregnable  fort- 
ifications. Long  before  day,  Torstenson's  artillery 
commenced  to  thunder  against  Alte  Veste.  In  the 
darkness  of  night,  five  hundred  German  musketeers 
of  the  White  Brigade  climbed  up  the  steep  heights, 
and,  in  spite  o£  the  terrible  shower  of  balls, 
mounted  the  ramparts.  For  a  moment  victory 
seemed  to  reward  their  contempt  of  death;  the 
drowsy  foes'  bewilderment,  the  shrieks  of  the' 
women,  and  the  Swedish  balls,  which  threw  down 
tents  and  people,  favored  the  attack.  But  Wallen- 
stein  maintained  sense  and  composure,  sent  away 
the  women,  and  turned  mass  upon  mass  against 
the  besiegers.  The  gallant  brigade  was  driven 
back  with  loss.  The  king  did  not  give  way;  once 
more  the  White  Brigade  stormed — in  vain.  Then 
Gustaf  Adolf  called  his  Finns,  "in  order,"  as  Schil- 
ler says,  "to  put  the  German  cowards  to  the  blush 
with  their  northern  courage." 

These  were  the  East  Bothnians,  in  the  ranks  of 
the  Swedish  brigade.  They  saw  death  before  their 
eyes  in  the  shape  of  a  hundred  fiery  mouths;  but 
resolutely,  with  unshaken  courage,  they  clambered 
up  the  precipice,  slippery  with  rain"^  and  blood. 
But  against  these  solid  ramparts,  against  this  mur- 
derous  shower  of  balls,  all  their  valor  rebounded; 
in  the  midst  of  fire  and  death,  they  tried  once  more 
to  gain  a  foothold  on  the  rampart,  but  in  vain;  the 


116  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

few  who  had  escaped  the  bullets  and  pikes  were 
hurled  violently  back.  For  the  first  time,  Gustaf 
Adolf's  Finns  were  seen  to  retreat;  and  equally- 
futile  were  all  attempts  of  succeeding  troops.  The 
Imperialists  hastened  out  in  pursuit,  but  were 
driven  back.  With  great  loss  of  life,  the  strife 
raged  all  day;  many  of  the  bravest  leaders  fell; 
and  the  death-ano-el  ao-ain  aimed  a  bullet  at  the 
king,  but  without  harming  more  than  the  sole  of 
his  boot. 

On  the  left  wing,  the  Imperial  cavalry  came  in 
collision  with  the  Swedes.  Cronenberg,  with  his 
cuirassiers,  clad  in  mail  from  head  to  foot,  and 
widely  celebrated  as  the  "  Invincibles,"  bore  the 
Hessians  to  the  ground.  The  Landgrave  of  Hesse 
remarked,  resentfully,  that  the  king  wished  to 
spare  his  own  troops  at  the  expense  of  the  Ger- 
mans. "  Well,  then,"  said  Gustaf  Adolf,  "  I  will 
send  my  Finns;  and  I  hope  that  the  change  of  men 
will  give  a  change  of  luck."  Stalhandske,  with 
the  Finns,  were  now  sent  against  Cronenberg  and 
the  "  Invincibles."  Between  these  superb  troops 
ensued  a  proud,  a  glorious  struggle,  of  imperishable 
memory.  On  the  shore  of  the  Regnitz  River, 
thickly  overgrown  with  bushes,  the  two  detach- 
ments encountered  each  other,  man  to  man,  horse 
to  horse;  sword-blades  were  dulled  against  helmets, 
long  pistols  flashed,  and  many  valiant  horsemen 
were  driven  down  in  the  whirl  of  the  river.  It  is 
probable  that  the  Finnish  horses  here  also  held  out 
better  than  the  beautiful  and  swift  Hungarian 
charo:ers;  and  this  contributed  to  the  victorv.  The 
brave  Cronenberg  fell;  his  "  Invincibles  "  fled  be- 
fore the  Finns.  In  his  place,  Fugger,  with  a  for- 
midable force,  charged  the  Finns,  and  drove  them, 
under   constant   fighting,  with   breast   toward  the 


THE  KING'S  RING.  117 


enemv,  slowly  to  the  underbrush.  But  here  the 
Imperialists  were  met  by  the  fire  of  the  Swedish 
infantry.  Fugger  fell,  and  his  cavalry  were  again 
repulsed  by  the  fatigued  Finns. 

At  nightfall,  more  than  three  thousand  dead 
covered  the  heights  and  plain.  "  In  the  battle  of 
Alte  Veste,"  says  Schiller,  "  Gustaf  Adolf  was  con- 
sidered conquered  because  he  did  not  himself  con- 
quer." The  next  day  he  withdrew  to  Bavaria. 
Forty-four  thousand  persons — friends  and  enemies 
— had  pest  and  war  swallowed  up  during  these  fa- 
tal weeks  in  and  around  Nuremberg. 

Tiie  darkness  of  autumn  increased;  its  fogs 
covered  Germany's  blood-stained  soil;  and  yet 
there  seemed  to  be  no  end  to  the  struggle.  But  a 
great  spirit  was  destined  here,  after  many  storms, 
to  find  a  peaceful  haven,  and  to  go  from  life's  au- 
tumnal evening  to  the  eternal  light.  Nearer  and 
nearer  hovered  the  death-angel  over  Gustaf  Adolf's 
noble  head,  shedding  upon  it  the  halo  of  a  higher 
world,  which  is  often  seen  to  beam  around  the  no- 
ble of  earth  in  their  last  moments.  The  multitude 
about  them  misunderstand  it,  but  the  departing  ones 
divine  the  meaning.  Two  days  before  his  death, 
the  people  of  Naumberg  paid  homage  to  Gustaf 
Adolf  as  to  a  god;  but  through  his  soul  flew  a  pre- 
sentiment of  the  end  of  his  career,  and  he  said  to 
the  court  minister,  Fabricius: 

"  Perhaps  God  will  soon  punish  both  their 
idolatrous  folly,  and  me,  who  am  the  object  of  it, 
and  show  that  I  also  am  a  weak  and  mortal  per- 


son." 


The  king  had  gone  up  to  Saxony,  to  follow  in 
the  track  of  the  ravaging  Wallenstein.  At  Arn- 
stadt  he  took  farewell  of  Axel  Oxenstjerna;  at 
Erfurt,  of  Queen   Maria  Eleonora.     There  and  at 


118  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Nuremberg  it  was  perceived,  from  many  of  his  ar- 
rangements, that  he  was  prepared  for  what  was 
coming.  Wallenstein,  who  believed  that  the  king 
had  gone  into  winter  quarters,  sent  Pappenheim, 
with  twelve  thousand  men,  to  Halle;  he  remained 
at  Llitzen,  with  twenty-eight  thousand  men,  and 
the  king  in  Naumburg  with  twenty  thousand. 

But  on  the  4th  of  November,  when  Gustaf 
Adolf  learned  of  Pappenheim's  departure,  he 
hastily  broke  camp  to  surprise  his  weakened 
enemy,  and  would  have  succeeded  had  he  come 
to  the  attack  on  the  5th.  But  Providence  threw 
in  his  triumphant  path  a  slight  obstacle — the  little 
stream  Rippach,  which,  together  with  freshly- 
ploughed  fields,  hindered  his  progress.  Not  until 
late  on  the  afternoon  of  the  5th  did  the  king 
approach  Llitzen.  Wallenstein  had  gained  time, 
and  knew  how  to  use  it.  Alono^  the  high-road  to 
Leipzig  he  had  had  ditches  dug  and  breastworks 
thrown  up  on  both  sides  of  the  way,  and  filled 
them  with  his  best  sharpshooters,  intending  to  de- 
stroy with  their  cross-fire  the  advancing  Swedes. 
The  kino-'s  council  of  war  dissuaded  from  the 
attack.  Only  Duke  Bernhard  advised  it,  and  the 
king  was  of  the  same  opinion:  "For,"  said  he,  "it 
is  best  to  wash  one's  self  thoroughly  clean  when 
one  is  once  in  the  bath." 

The  night  was  dark  and  dreary.  The  king  spent 
it  in  an  old  carriage,  together  with  Kniephausen 
and  Duke  Bernhard.  His  restless  soul  had  time  to 
think  of  everything;  and  then,  says  the  tradition, 
he  drew  from  his  rio;ht  forefinger  a  little  ring  of 
copper,  and  handed  it  to  Duke  Bernhard,  with  in- 
struction that,  if  anything  should  happen  to  him, 
he  should  deliver  it  to  a  young  officer  of  the 
Finnish  cavalry. 


THE  KING'S  RING.  119 

Early  in  the  morning,  Gustaf  Adolf  rode  out  to 
inspect  the  order  of  battle.  He  was  clad  in  a 
jacket  of  elk-skin,  with  a  gray  cloak.  When  ex- 
horted to  wear  armor  on  such  a  day,  he  answered: 

"  God  is  my  armor." 

A  thick  mist  delayed  the  attack.  At  dawn  the 
whole  army  joined  in  singing,  "A  mighty  fortress 
is  our  God;"  and  as  the  fog  continued,  the  king 
began,  with  his  own  voice,  "  God,  be  to  us  gracious 
and  kind,"  as  well  as,  "  Be  not  dismayed,  thou  little 
flock,"  which  latter  he  had  shortly  before  composed. 
Then  he  rode  along  the   ranks,  crying: 

"  To-day,  boys,  we  will  put  an  end  to  all  our 
troubles;"  and  his  horse  stumbled  twice. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  before 
the  mist  was  dispelled  by  a  slight  gust  of  wind. 
The  Swedish  army  immediately  advanced  to  the 
assault.  On  the  right  wing,  which  was  commanded 
by  the  king,  again  stood  Stalhandske  with  the 
Finns,  and  behind  them  the  Swedish  troops;  in 
the  centre,  the  Swedish  Yellow  and  Green  Brig- 
ades, under  Nis  Brahe;  on  the  left  wing,  the 
German  cavalry,  under  Duke  Bernhard.  Opposite 
the  Duke  stood  Golloredo,  with  the  flower  of  the 
cavalry;  in  the  centre,  Wallenstein  himself,  with 
close  masses  of  infantry  in  four  large  tertiers,  and 
seven  cannon  in  their  front;  opposite  Stalhandske 
stood  Isolani,  with  his  ferocious  but  brave  Croats. 
The  battle-cry  was  on  both  sides  the  same  as  at 
Breitenfeld.  When  the  king  gave  the  order  to 
attack,  he  clasped  his  hands  and  exclaimed: 

"Jesu,  Jesu,  help  me  to  fight  to-day  for  the 
glory  of  Thy  holy  name!  " 

Lutzen  was  now  set  on  fire  by  the  Imperialists; 
the  artillery  began  to  thunder,  and  the  Swedish 
army  advanced,  but  suffered  great  losses  at  the 


120  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

very  outset.  At  last  the  Swedish  centre  crossed 
the  trenches,  took  the  seven  cannon,  and  routed 
the  enemy's  first  two  brigades.  The  third  had 
already  turned  to  flee,  when  Wallenstein  succeeded 
in  rallying  them;  the  Swedes  were  taken  in  the 
flank  by  the  cavalry,  and  the  Finns,  who  had  put 
the  Croats  and  Polanders  to  flight,  had  not  yet 
crossed  the  trenches.  Then  the  king  rushed  for- 
ward at  the  head  of  the  Smalanders,  only  a  few  of 
whom  had  sufficiently  good  horses  to  follow  him. 
It  is  said  that  an  Imperial  musketeer  aimed  at  the 
king  with  a  silver  bullet;  the  certainty  is,  that  his 
left  arm  was  crushed,  and  that  he  endeavored  to 
conceal  his  wound,  but  soon,  weakened  by  the  loss 
of  blood,  begged  the  Duke  of  Lauenburg,  who 
rode  at  his  side,  to  lead  him,  unobserved,  from  the 
strife.  But  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult,  Gotz's 
cuirassiers  came  up,  led  by  Moritz  von  Falkenberg, 
who  recoofnized  the  kino-  and  shot  him  through  the 
body,  with  the  exclamation: 

"  Thee  have   I  long  sought!  "  and  directly  af- 
terwards Falkenberg  himself  fell,  struck  by  a  ball. 

Now  the  king  has  reeled  in  his  saddle,  and  en- 
treated the  duke  to  save  his  own  life;  the  duke 
has  seized  him  around  the  waist  to  support  him, 
but  at  that  instant  a  whole  swarm  of  enemies  have 
rushed  upon  them  and  separated  them.  A  pistol- 
shot  has  singled  the  duke's  hair;  the  king's  horse 
has  been  shot  through  the  neck,  and  has  reared; 
Gustaf  Adolf  has  sunk  from  the  saddle,  has  been 
dragged  a  little  way  by  the  stirrups,  and  then  left 
on  the  ground.  The  young  page,  Leubelfingen, 
from  Nuremberg,  has  offered  him  his  horse,  but 
has  not  been  able  to  lift  up  the  fallen  man.  Some 
Imperial  cavalrymen  have  come  to  the  spot,  and 
asked  who  the   wounded  person   was;  and  when 


THE   KING'S  RING.  121 

Leubelfiiioren  has  not  been  willing:  to  answer,  one 
of  them  has  run  a  sword  through  his  body,  another 
has  shot  the  king  through  the  head;  after  this, 
others  have  discharged  several  shots  at  them,  and 
the  two  have  been  left  under  a  pile  of  corpses. 
But  Leubelfingen  lived  a  few  days  after,  to  relate 
to  after-times  the  sad  and  never-to-be-forgotten 
story  of  Gustaf  Adolf's  heroic  death. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Swedish  centre  had  been 
compelled  to  retire,  a  thousand  mutilated  corpses 
covered  the  battle-field,  and  yet  not  a  foot  of  soil 
had  been  gained.  Both  armies  occupied  nearly 
the  same  position  as  at  the  beginning  of  the  bat- 
tle. 

Then  the  king's  wounded  horse,  with  the  empty 
saddle  covered  with  blood,  galloped  in  among  the 
ranks.  "  The  king  has  fallen!  "  And,  as  Schiller 
beautifully  says,  "  Life  fell  in  vakie  when  the  most 
sacred  of  all  lives  was  no  more;  death  had  no 
longer  any  terror  for  the  humblest,  since  it  had  not 
spared  the  crowned  head." 

Duke  Bernhard  galloped  from  rank  to  rank: 

"  Ye  Swedes,  Finns  and  Germans,"  said  he, 
"  liberty's  defender,  your  defender,  and  ours,  has 
fallen!  Every  man  who  holds  the  king  dear  will 
hasten  forward  to  avenge  his  death!" 

The  first  to  respond  to  this  appeal  was  Stal- 
handske  and  the  Finns.  With  incredible  exertion 
they  leaped  the  trenches,  and  drove  before  them 
swarms  of  scattered  enemies;  all  fell  before  their 
blows.  Isolani,  put  to  flight,  wheeled  round  and 
attacked  the  Swedish  wagon-trains,  but  was  again 
repulsed.  With  like  fury,  Brahe,  with  the  centre, 
pressed  across  the  trenches;  while  Duke  Bernhard, 
without  heeding  the  ball  which  had  crushed  his 
arm,  took  one  of  the  enemy's  batteries.  The 
6 


12-:?  r,v/z5  OF  GUS7AF  az:lf. 

wbde  Imperial  army  falterei.  5t;irrerei  and 
broke  before  this  fearful  assau.t:  tneir  powder- 
carts  were  blown  into  the  air.  Wallenstein's 
w<Hd  of  command  and  PiccoIomini''s  brilliant 
Talor  "were  no  longer  able  to  stay  the  reckless 
flight. 

Bat  at  that  instant  there  resounded  far  over  the 
plain  the  jubilant  err,  "  Pappenheim  is  here  I  " 
And  Pappenheim,  the  bravest  of  the  brave,  was 
there  with  his  cavalrv.  and  his  first  question  was  : 

"  Where  is  the  King  of  Sweden?  ^ 

They  pointed  to  SiAlhandske's  lines,  and  he 
started  there.  The  hottest,  the  most  infuriate  con- 
test now  took  place.  The  Imperialists,  regaining 
courage,  turned  back  and  attacked  from  three  sides 
at  once.  No  one  vielded  ground.  Brahe,  and 
with  him  the  Yellow  Brigade,  fell  almost  to  the 
last  man.  WinckeL  with  the  Blue,  fell  in  like 
beautiftd  order,  man  bv  man,  just  as  they  stood  in 
the  ranks.  The  rest  of  the  Swedish  foot-soldiers 
drew  slowly  back,  and  viciory  seemed  to  smile 
upon  the  all-powerful  Pappenheim. 

But  he.  the  Ajax  of  his  tune,  the  man  with  a 
hundred  scars,  was  not  destined  to  see  the  day  of 
triumnii.  Alreadv,  in  the  first  attack  aarainst  the 
Finns,  a  falconet-ball  had  struck  his  hip;  two  mus- 
ket-bal-s  had  cierced  his  scarred  breast;  it  is  said 
that  Sialhandske's  own  hand  had  reached  him.  He 
fell,  even  in  his  last  moments  rejoicing  over  Gustaf 
Adolf  5  death;  and  the  news  of  his  fall  spread  ter- 
ror through  the  Imperial  ranks.  "  Pappenheim  is 
dead;  all  is  lost!  "  Once  more  the  Swedes  ad- 
vanced- Ihike  Bemhard.  Kniephausen,  StAlhand- 
ske,  performed  miracles:  but  Piccolomini  also, 
who,  with  six  wounds,  mounted  his  seventh  horse, 
fought  with  more  than  mortal  courage.     The  Impe- 


THE  KI.VGS  RIXG.  123 

rial  centre  stood  firm,  and  onlv  darkness  suspended 
the  conflict.  Wallenstein  withdrew,  and  the  ex- 
hausted Swedish  army  encamped  on  the  battle- 
field. Nine  thousand  dead  covered  the  plain  of 
Lutzen. 

The  results  of  this  battle  were  severely  felt  by 
the  Imperialists.  They  had  lost  all  their  artillery 
—  Pappenheim's  and  Wallenstein's  reputation  for 
invincibility.  The  great  Friedlander  raged  with 
fury;  his  hard  hand  dispensed  the  gallows  to  the 
cowardly  as  liberally  as  ducats  to  the  brave.  Sick 
and  gloomy,  he  retired  with  the  remainder  of  his 
army,  about  ten  thousand  men,  back  to  Bohemia, 
where  the  stars  became  his  nightly  companions, 
treasonable  plans  his  daily  relaxation,  and  death, 
by  Butlers  hand,  the  end  of  his  brilliant  career. 

But  over  the  whole  Catholic  world  went  a  great 
jubilee  of  victory,  for  Lutherism  and  the  Swedes 
had  lost  infinitely  more  than  their  foes.  Paralyzed 
was  the  arm  that  had  so  powerfully  "wielded  the 
victorious  sword  of  light  and  liberty.  The  gr-ei 
of  the  Protestants  was  general  and  deep,  mingled 
with  fear  for  the  future.  Not  without  ground  ^is 
the  Te  Deiim  sung  in  the  cathedral?  :*  ^'^~'-.. 
Brussels,  and  Madrid;   twelve  days'  ^         i    ".  ■ 

fights  celebrated  in  Madrid  the  fall  of  the  dreads  i 
hero;  but  Emperor  Ferdinand,  greater  than  nis 
contemporaries,  is  said  to  have  shed  tears  ar  tne 
sight  of  his  slain  enemy's  bloody  jacket- 
Man  v  stories  were  circulated  about  the  great 
Gustaf  AdolFs  death;  now  it  was  the  Duke  Franz 
Albert  of  Lauenburg,  now  Richelieu,  now  Du^e 
Bemhard,  whom  popular  belief  accused  of  partici- 
pation in  the  king's  fall;  but  none  of  these  sus- 
picions have  been  confirmed  by  the  impartial 
historian.    A  recent  German  author  comniunicates 


124  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

the  following  popular  version:  "  Gustaf  Adolf, 
King  of  Sweden,  received,  while  he  was  yet  very 
young,  from  a  lady  whom  he  much  loved,  a  ring  of 
iron,  which  he  never  afterwards  allowed  to  be 
taken  from  his  hand.  The  ring  consisted  of  seven 
circles,  which  formed  the  letters  of  both  his  names. 
Seven  days  before  his  death,  this  ring  was  taken 
from  him  without  his  being  aware,  at  the  time,  of 
the  singular  theft." 

The  reader  knows  that  our  story  joins  its  thread 
to  the  same  ring;  but  several  reasons  entitle  us  to 
the  supposition  that  the  ring  was  of  copper. 

The  evening  after  the  battle,  Duke  Bernhard 
sent  his  soldiers  with  lighted  torches  to  look  for 
the  king's  dead  body;  and  they  found  it,  plun- 
dered, disfigured,  under  a  heap  of  corpses.  Brought 
to  the  village  of  Meuchen,  it  was  there  embalmed, 
and  the  soldiers  received  permission  to  behold  the 
remains  of  their  king  and  hero.  Bitter  tears  were 
there  shed,  but  tears  full  of  pride;  for  even  the 
most  humble  considered  himself  great  through  the 
honor  of  having  fought  by  the  side  of  so  heroic  a 
king. 

"See,"  said  a  veteran  of  Stalhandske's  Finns, 
sobbing  aloud,  "  they  have  robbed  him  of  his  gold 
chain  and  his  copper  ring.  I  still  see  the  white 
mark  left  by  the  ring  on  his  right  forefinger." 

"  What  would  they  care  for  a  ring  of  copper?" 
asked  a  Scot,  who  had  just  come  to  the  army,  and 
knew  nothing  of  the  story  which  circulated  among 
the  people. 

"  His  ring-!  "  exclaimed  a  Pomeranian,  mysteri- 
ously. "  You  may  rely  upon  it  that  the  Jesuits 
knew  what  it  was  good  for.  The  ring  was  en- 
chanted by  a  Finnish   witch,  and,  as  long  as  the 


THE  KING'S  RING.  125 


king  wore  it,  neither  iron  nor  lead  had  any  effect 
upon  him." 

"  But,  you  see,  to-day  he  lost  it,"  joined  in  a, 
third;  "  and  therefore  ...  do  you  comprehend?  " 

"  What  is  that  the  Pomeranian  pear-eater 
says?"  burst  out  the  Finn,  bitterly.  "God's 
power,  and  no  other,  has  protected  our  great  king; 
but  the  ring  was  given  him,  a  long  while  ago,  by  a 
Finnish  girl  whom  he  held  very  dear  in  his  youth. 
I  know  something  more  about  it  than  you,  apple- 
muncher!  " 

Duke  Bernhard,  who,  sombre  and  thoughtful, 
contemplated  the  king's  pale  features,  looked 
around  at  these  words,  put  his  unhurt  hand  within 
his  unbuttoned  jacket,  and  turned  to  the  Finn, 
saying: 

"  "  Comrade,  do  you  know  one  of  Stalhandske's 
officers  named  Bertel?" 

"  Yes,  certainly,  your  highness." 

"Is  he  alive?" 

"No,  your  highness." 

The  duke  turned  abstractedly  to  another,  and 
gave  orders  right  and  left.  In  a  few  moments  he 
again  seemed,  at  the  sight  of  the  king,  to  be  re- 
minded of  something. 

"  Was  he  a  brave  man?  "  asked  he. 

"He  was  one  of  Stalhandske's  cavalry!"  said 
the  B"'inn,  with  emphasis,  and  with  a  pride  which 
did  not  ill  become  him. 

"  When  did  he  fall,  and  where?  " 

"  In  the  last  skirmish  with  the   Pappenheim- 


ers." 


"  Search  for  him!  " 

The  duke's  command  was  executed  without 
grumbling  by  these  over-wearied  soldiers,  who, 
with  good  reason,  wondered  why  it  was  that  one 


126  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

of  the  youngest  officers  should  be  searched  for  that 
very  night,  when  Nils  Brahe,  Winckel,  and  so 
many  other  gray-haired  generals,  were  still  lying 
in  their  blood  on  the  battle-field.  Not  until 
early  morning  did  those  sent  out  return  with  the 
intelligence  that  Bertel's  dead  body  was  nowhere 
to  be  found. 

"  Hum!  "said  the  duke,  displeased;  "  great  men 
have  sometimes  their  little  whims;  what  shall  I 
now  do  with  the  king's  ring?" 

And  the  November  sun  rose  blood-red  over  the 
field  of  Liitzen.  A  new  epoch  dawned;  the  mas- 
ter was  gone,  and  the  pupils  had  now  to  see  how 
they  could  carry  out  his  work. 


PART     II.  —  THE     SWORD     AND     THE 

PLOUGH. 


INTERLUDE. 


WHEN  the  Surgeon  had  ended  his  first  story, 
his  hearers  sat  for  a  time  in  silence,  reflect- 
ing, perhaps,  upon  the  death  of  the  great  king,  or 
perhaps  not  realizing  that  the  tale  was  ended.  On 
the  stuffed  leather  sofa  sat  the  old  grandmother,  in 
her  brown-plaid  woolen  shawl,  and  at  her  side  the 
school-teacher.  Master  Svenonius,  with  his  blue 
handkerchief  and  brass-rimmed  eyeglasses;  on  the 
right.  Captain  Svanholm,  the  postmaster,  who  had 
lost  his  left  forefinger  in  the  last  war;  on  the  left,  the 
pretty  Anne  Sophie,  who  was  then  eighteen  years 
of  asae,  and  wore  a  high  tortoise-shell  comb  in  her 
thick  brown  hair;  while  around  them  on  the  floor, 
with  and  without  seats,  were  six  or  seven  frolicsome 
and  mischievous  little  folks,  all  with  wide  open 
mouths,  as  though  they  had  heard  a  ghost  story. 

The  first  one  to  break  the  silence  was  Anne 
Sophie,  who,  with  a  cry,  sprang  up  from  her  chair, 
stumbled,  and  fell  into  Master  Svenonius'  arms. 
This  little  interruption  had  about  the  same  effect 
on  the  company,  who  at  that  moment  were  in  Liit- 
zen,  as  if  all  Isolani's  Croats  had  suddenly  charged 
into  the  peaceful  chamber.  The  postmaster,  yet 
warm  from  the  heat  of  the  conflict,  jumped  up  and 
trod  on  the  old  grandmother's  sore  foot  with  his 
iron-shod  heel;  the  schoolmaster  looked  quite  dis- 

(127) 


128  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF, 

concerted,  not  at  all  realizing  the  value  of  the 
burden  he  held  in  his  arms — undoubtedly  the  first 
and  the  prettiest  in  his  whole  life;  the  children 
scattered  confusedly  in  all  directions,  upset  their 
benches,  and  crept  behind  the  Surgeon's  high- 
backed  chair;  but  young  Andreas,  who  had  just 
been  following  Stalhandske's  cavalry  in  the  gallop 
over  the  trenches,  seized  the  Surgeon's  silver- 
headed  Spanish  cane,  and  placed  himself  in  posi- 
tion to  receive  the  Croats  at  the  point  of  the  bayo- 
net. Old  Biick  was  the  only  one  who  maintained 
his  imperturbable  composure;  he  took  out  his  oval 
tobacco-box,  bit  off  a  very  little  piece,  and  asked, 
mildly:  "  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Anne  So- 
phie?" Anne  Sophie  loosed  herself,  blushing  and 
embarrassed,  from  the  master's  embrace,  and  looked 
around  after  the  culprit,  declaring  that  somebody 
had  pricked  her  in  the  arm  with  a  pin. 

The  old  grandmother,  who,  when  occasion  re- 
quired, was  quick  to  scent  out  mischief,  immedi- 
ately instituted  proceedings  which  resulted  in  the 
discovery  that  Jonathan  had  inserted  a  pin  in  the 
end  of  his  rattan,  and  therewith  disturbed  his  old- 
est sister,  who  had  not  yet  recovered  from  the 
effects  of  the  battle  of  Lutzen.  The  trial  was 
short  and  summary,  like  that  of  a  court-martial; 
and  our  good  Jonathan  received  the  hard  sentence 
of  banishment  to  the  nursery  and  learning  an  extra 
lesson  for  the  next  dav. 

When,  by  action  of  the  reigning  powers,  and 
without  undue  bloodshed,  order  was  again  restored, 
the  company  found  opportunity  for  some  conversa- 
tion about  the  Surgeon's  tale. 

"  It  is  altogether  too  tumultuous  a  story,  my 
dear  cousin,"  began  the  old  grandmother,  regard- 
ing the  narrator  with  one  of  those  mild  and  ex- 


THE   SWORD   AMD    THE  PLOUGH.         ]29 


pressive  glances  which  yet  in  her  old  age  capti- 
vated all  hearts  with  their  peculiar  intelligence  and 
kindness  —  "altogether  too  tumultuous,  I  must 
say.  It  seems  to  me  that  my  ears  are  yet  deafened 
by  the  tumult  of  the  cannon.  War  is  something 
horrible  and  detestable,  when  we  consider  all  the 
blood  that  is  shed  on  the  battle-field  and  all  the 
tears  at  home.  When  shall  the  day  come  when 
men,  instead  of  tearing  each  other  to  pieces,  will 
share  the  earth  and  our  Lord's  good  gifts  together 
in  peace  and  harmony?  " 

Here  the  postmaster's  martial  sympathies  rose 
in  arms. 

"Peace? — sharing? — and  no  war?  Pshaw,  cous- 
in, pshaw!  would  you  make  an  ant's  nest  of  the 
world?  Just  thitik,  what  a  state  of  things!  Scrib- 
blers would  ink  over  everything;  cowards  and  petty 
despots  would  jump  on  honest  men's  noses;  and 
when  one  nation  domineered  over  another,  people 
would  bow  humbly,  thank  their  masters,  and  look 
like  sheep.  No,  the  devil  take  me!  such  men  as  Gus- 
taf  Adolf  and  Napoleon,  they  shake  things  up;  they 
tap  a  little  blood  which  has  been  spoiled  by  too 
much  good  living,  and  thereby  the  world  gets 
healthier.  I  remember  yet  the  21st  of  August,  at 
Karstula:  Fieandt  stood  at  the  left,  and  I  at  the 
right    .    .    ." 

"If  I  might  interrupt  my  honored  brother  in 
his  speech,"  said  the  master,  who  had  heard  a  hun- 
dred and  seventy  times  before  the  Karstula  story, 
in  which  Svanholm,  then  a  sergeant,  had  lost  the 
celebrated  finger,  "  I  would  prove  that  the  world 
would  profit  more  by  ink  than  blood.  Inter  arma 
silent  leges.  Should  war  prevail  now,  we  would  not 
be  sitting  here  by  our  fire  and  our  toddy  in  Back's  " 
chamber,  but  our  place  would  be  by  a  cannon  on  a 
I 


130  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

fortress- wall,  linstock  in  hand,  instead  of  a  glass; 
powder  in  the  pouch  instead  of  snuff.  But  now, 
you  see,  it  is  the  ink  that  has  made  you,  brother,  a 
postmaster;  in  the  ink  you  live,  and  have  your  be- 
ing; ink  is  your  daily  bread;  and  what  would  you 
be  with  blood  alone  and  no  ink,  I  ask?" 

"What  would  I  be?     Devil  take  me!      I   .    .   ." 

"  Cousin  Svanholm!  "  said  the  old  grandmother, 
with  an  expressive  glance  around  at  the    children. 

The  postmaster  hushed  instantly.  The  Surgeon 
realized  the  necessity  of  establishing  peace  be- 
tween ink  and  blood. 

"  I  mean,"  said  he,  "  that  nations  go  through 
this  world  very  much  like  all  the  rest  of  us  children 
of  humanity.  In  their  youth  they  are  wild  and 
lawless;  they  fight  and  rage  and  tear  each  other  to 
pieces,  man  against  man.  Then  they  become  older 
and  wiser,  invent  gunpowder,  place  mass  against 
mass,  and  let  them  in  cold  blood  kill  their  brethren 
at  long  distances.  Finally  the  world  comes  to 
reasoji,  loads  with  powder  only,  as  if  for  firing  a 
salute,  and  seizes  the  pen,  which  is  very  sharp 
when  required.  And  then  begins  the  reign  of 
universal  common-sense,  which  is  certainly  the 
wisest,  according  to  my  understanding." 

"Oh,  a  thousand  dev .     .     .     .     well,  well, 

cousin,  I  am  silent  as  a  brick  wall  !  "  exclaimed  the 
postmaster.  "But  I  only  ask,  what  kind  of  a  man 
was  Gustaf  Adolf  ?  What  kind  of  a  man  was 
Napoleon?  Were  they  birthday  musicians,  do  you 
think?  Were  they  wild  and  reckless? — yes,  thanks 
for  it  .  .  .  cousin,  do  you  hear? — I  don't  swear. 
But  you  should  have  heard  Fieandt — how  like 
thunder  and  lishtninof  he  swore  at  Karstula!  " 

The  Surgeon  continued,  without  paying  any 
heed  to  the  postmaster: 


THE    SWORD   AND    THE  PLOUGH.         ]31 

"Therefore,  the  history  of  all  nations  begins 
with  war;  and  soldier  number  one  in  the  world's 
first  company  was  called  Cain.  But  as  war  is  as 
old  as  the  world,  it  is  likely  to  exist  as  long  as  the 
world  stands.  I  do  not  believe  in  the  nice  new 
ideas  about  an  eternal  peace.  I  think  that  so  long 
as  people  share  the  earth  between  them,  so  long  as 
human  hearts  retain  selfish  desires,  they  will  be 
subject  to  the  curse  of  war.  Believe  me,  eternal 
]ieace  consists  in  allowing  people  no  longer  to 
fight  so  blindly,  slavishly,  and  frantically  as  before, 
but  with  glad  courage,  so  that  they  may  clearly 
comprehend  the  reason  why,  and  be  able  to  swear 
that  their  cause  is  a  righteous  one;  for  then  they 
can  strike  with  right  good  will." 

"  That  is  to  say,  to  fight  for  an  idea,"  observed 
the  schoolmaster,  thoughtfully. 

"  That  is  it,  'for  an  idea.'  It  is  the  honor  of  the 
Finnish  soldier  that  he  has  always  fought  for  the 
righteous  object  of  defending  his  fatherland,  with- 
out making  an  attack  upon  another  man's  house. 
Only  once  he  went  out  to  fight  on  foreign  soil;  and 
our  Lord  mercifully  ordained  that  it  was  for  the 
greatest  and  most  righteous  cause  of  all:  namely, 
to  defend  the  pure  evangelical  faith  and  freedom 
of  conscience  for  the  whole  world.  The  Finn  knew 
this  in  the  Thirty  Years'  War;  and  therefore  his 
efficiency.  He  felt  within  himself  that  his  heart 
was  of  the  same  as  Gustaf  Adolfs  — who,  as  far  as 
I  can  see,  was  the  greatest  general  who  ever  lived, 
while  he  fouo-ht  and  gained  victories  for  the  g-reat- 
est  cause  worth  bleeding  for." 

"Tell  us  a  little  more  about  Gustaf  Adolf!" 
exclaimed  Andreas,  who  understood,  of  all  that  the 
Surgeon  had  been  saying,  only  this  one  name. 

"  Dear  good  uncle,  a  little  more  about  Gustaf 


132  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Adolf!"  chimed  in  the  rest  of  the  youngsters, 
who,  with  the  greatest  eflfort,  had  been  kept 
within  bounds  by  grandmother's  stern  looks  and 
by  sister  Anne  Sophie. 

"  No,  thank  you;  the  great  king  is  now  dead, 
and  we  will  let  him  slumber  in  peace  in  the  vault 
of  Riddarholm  church.  And  if  the  story  thus  loses 
much,  it  also  gains  something,  namely:  that  the 
rest  of  the  personages  become  more  prominent. 
For  hitherto  we  have  scarcely  had  an  eye  for  any- 
thing but  the  hero  king,  and  grandmother  was 
right  in  saying  that  our  ears  have  been  split  by 
the  cannon.  Thus  it  has  happened  that  both  Lady 
Regina  and  the  Jesuit,  and  especially  Bertel,  who 
is  the  hero,  have  passed  by  like  shadows  without 
life  or  substance.    .    .  " 

"And  Kiitchen,"  interrupted  the  grandmother; 
"for  my  part,  I  would  like,  best  of  all,  to  know 
something  more  about  this  happy  and  well-man- 
nered child.  I  will  leave  Regina  alone;  but  this 
much  I  will  say:  that  such  a  black-haired  wild-cat, 
who  can  tear  one's  eyes  out  any  minute,  I  would 
not  give  much  for." 

"And  the  fine  Count  of  Lichtenstein,  whom  we 
have  nut  seen  since  Wiirtzburg,"  added  Anne 
Sophie;  "I  predict  that  he  will  in  the  end  become 
Regina's  betrothed." 

"Aha!  little  cousin  listens  with  delight  to  that 
part  of  it!"  rejoined  the  postmaster,  vvith  a  sly 
smile.  "  Bat  I  ask  you,  brother  Back,  not  to  busv 
yourself  with  love-nonsense;  let  us  rather  hear 
something  more  about  Stalhandske,  Lyydikain,  the 
little  thick  Larsson,  and  the  Tavastlander  Witik- 
ka.  How  the  devil  did  the  man  oret  along  without 
ears?  I  remember  to  this  day,  that  on  the  21st  of 
August  there  was  a  corporal  at  Karstula    ..." 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE   PLOUGH.         133 

"Brother  Biick,"  interrupted  the  schoolmaster, 
who  was  always  inexorable  every  time  Karstula 
was  mentioned,  "  brother  Biick,  who  has  justitia 
niuudl.,  the  sword  of  justice,  in  his  hand,  cannot 
possibly  fail  to  hoist  the  Jesuit  Hieronymus  up  to 
the  top  of  the  highest  pine  on  the  Hartz  Moun- 
tains." 

"  Take  care,  brother  Svenonius,"  retorted  the 
postmaster,  dryly;  "  the  Jesuit  was  a  very  learned 
man,  who  knew  a  great  deal  of  Latin   .   .  " 

"I  will  tell  you  what  I  know  about  the  Finns," 
said  the  Surgeon;  "but  I  assure  you  in  advance 
that  it  is  altogether  too  little.  Let  us  wait  ten  or 
twenty  years  longer,  when  some  diligent  man  will 
take  the  pains  to  glean  from  the  old  chronicles  our 
brave  countrymen's  exploits.  Until  then  we  must 
content  ourselves  with  sketches,  disjointed — and 
perhaps  a  little  fanciful,"  added  the  Surgeon,  in  so 
low  a  tone  as  not  to  be  heard  by  the  little  ones, 
whose  belief  in  the  veracity  of  the  story  he  did 
not  wish  to  disturb. 

"  And  what  became  of  the  king's  ring?  " 

"  Why,  that  we  will  hear  to  -  morrow  even- 
ins:." 


CHx\PTER   I. 

A    MAN    FROir    THE    CLUB    WAR. 

AWAY  toward  the  north,  beyond  the  fertile 
plains  of  Germany,  is  spread  a  stormy  sea, 
whose  level  changes  with  ebb  and  flow,  whose 
shores  are  covered  every  year  with  the  ice  of 
winter,  and  whose  open  straits    have    sometimes 


134  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

borne  entire  armies  oa  their  floating  bridges  of 
ice.  For  centuries,  surrounding  nations  have 
battled  for  the  possession  of  this  sea,  and  colored 
its  waves  with  their  blood;  but  at  the  time  of  our 
story,  a  single  power,  the  most  puissant  in  the 
north,  ruled  over  nine-tenths  of  its  wide  coasts. 
The  Baltic  had  become  almost  an  inland  sea  in  tlie 
Swedish  kingdom. 

And  the  Baltic  stretches  its  mighty  blue  arms 
east  and  north,  and  folds  in  its  tumultuous  embrace 
a  daughter  of  the  sea,  a  land  of  the  waves  which 
had  sprung  up  from  its  bosom,  and,  still  increas- 
ins:,  lifts  her  solid  rocks  hio-h  above  her  mother's 
heart.  Finland  is  the  best-beloved  child  of  the 
Baltic.  To  this  day  she  empties  her  treasures 
into  her  mother's  lap;  and  the  mighty  sea  is  not 
uplifted  by  the  offering,  but  draws  lovingly  and 
tenderly  back,  like  an  indulgent  mother,  that  the 
daughter  may  grow,  and  every  summer  clothe  with 
grass  and  flowers  new  shores  laid  open  to  the  day. 
Happy  the  land  which  lulls  in  its  bosom  the  waves 
of  a  thousand  lakes,  and  stretches  a  shore  of  nine 
hundred  miles  toward  the  sea!  The  sea  bears 
power,  freedom,  well-being  and  culture;  the  seals 
the  active  civilizing  element  of  earth;  and  a 
country  which  has  communication  with  the  sea  can 
never  stagnate  in  want  and  oppression,  unless  by 
its  own  fault. 

And  far  away  in  the  north  of  Finland  extends 
a  region  which,  more  than  any  other,  is  the  foster- 
child  of  the  sea;  for  from  time  immemorial  its  gen- 
tle slopes  have  risen  increasingly  from  the  waves. 
Innumerable  green  islands  rise  along  these  coasts. 
"  In  my  youth,"  says  the  gray  -  haired  sailor, 
"  great  ships  floated  here  where  now  a  boat  is 
rowed  with  difficulty;"   and,  a  few  years  hence. 


THE   SWORD  AND   THE   PLOUGH.         135 

herds  will  srraze  on  the  former  bottom  of  the  sea. 
The  child  at  play  loads  its  boat  at  the  beach;  look 
around  you,  little  one,  and  mark  well  the  spot 
where  the  waters  trace  their  edges  in  the  sand; 
when  you  become  a  man  you  will  seek  that  strand 
in  vain;  far  beyond  the  green  plains  you  will  hear 
its  murmur  in  the  distance;  and  when  you  one 
day  stand  there  as  an  old  man,  a  flourishing  town 
will  appear  on  the  spot  once  occupied  by  your 
childhood's  sea.  Strange  region,  where  the  towns 
which  had  so  wisely  built  their  harbors  by  the  deep 
bays  and  rivers,  in  two  hundred  years  are  miles 
away  from  the  outer  roadstead,  while  vessel  keels 
and  anchors  are  drawn  up  from  the  bogs  fifty 
miles  inland! 

This  region  is  East  Bothnia.  Its  area  is 
greater  than  that  of  many  kingdoms;  and  it  ex- 
tends far  up  in  the  extreme  north,  to  the  borders 
of  Lapland,  where  the  sun  never  sets  at  midsum- 
mer, and  never  rises  during  the  Christmas  dark- 
ness. Three  months  of  the  year,  nature  is  there 
awake  in  the  unbroken  splendor  of  day,  and  then 
you  can  read  the  finest  print  at  midnight;  three 
months  the  night  continues,  but  a  night  of  stars 
and  boreal  lights,  a  niffht  of  moonlio-ht  and  arlitter- 
ing  snow,  frosty-clear,  holy  and  solemn.  The  flow- 
er's beauty  is  more  perishable  there  than  human 
joy;  seven  months  the  plains  are  covered  with 
blinding  snow,  and  the  lakes  with  ice  solid  as  the 
ground;  but  never  is  spring  more  blithe  than  after 
such  a  winter  of  frost — thouo-h  this  is  mino-led 
with  a  melancholy  which  the  heart  well  under- 
stands. 

Along  the  coast  of  this  northern  land  live  two 
races,  unmixed,  and  very  unlike  each  other:  a  vari- 
egated picture  of  national  and  local  peculiarities 


136  TIMES   OF   GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


of  language,  habits,  and  temperament,  sharply 
marked  from  parish  to  parish;  yet  all  present  cer- 
tain common  traits:  activity,  energy,  and  a  frank- 
ness of  demeanor  which  is  peculiarly  their  own. 
It  is  not  a  geographical  chance  that  the  greatest 
and  bloodiest  battles  in  Finland's  history  have 
been  fought  on  the  soil  of  East  Bothnia. 

Twenty-five  miles  east  of  Wasa,  on  the  low 
banks  of  Kyro  River,  lies  Storkyro  Parish,  one  of 
the  richest  parishes  in  East  Bothnia,  whose  gran- 
ary it  is.  Here  grows,  in  fertile  clay  soil,  the 
celebrated  seed-rye  which  is  shipped  yearly  in 
great  quantities  to  Sweden.  The  whole  parish  is 
an  almost  unbroken  plain  of  waving  grain-fields, 
from  which  arose  the  well-known  saying  that 
"  Storkyro  fields  and  Lirningo  meadows  have  not 
their  like  in  length  and  breadth."  The  inhabitants 
are  Finns,  of  ancient  Tavastlandish  origin.  Their 
old  leaning  church,  built  in  the  year  1304,  is  one 
of  the  oldest  antiquities  of  the  country. 

It  is  there  that  we  now  invite  the  reader. 

At  the  time  of  our  story,  this  region  was  not 
nearly  as  well  cultivated  as  in  later  times.  The 
ravages  of  the  Club  War  had  retarded  its  pros- 
perity, so  that  for  a  whole  generation  traces  of 
them  were  seen;  while  other  hard  wars,  with 
sweeping  conscriptions,  hindered  time  from  heal- 
ing these  wounds.  Therefore,  in  the  summer  of 
1632,  many  a  farm-house  still  stood  desolate  in  the 
edge  of  the  woods;  the  grain  fields  stretched  but  a 
little  way  from  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  the 
unhealthy  fogs  of  the  morass  covered  the  country 
when  the  nights  were  cool.  The  already-thinned 
forests  still  yielded  fuel  for  the  tar-pits;  part  of 
the  peasantry  fished  among  the  Michael  Islands; 
and  the  pastor,  Georgius  Thomas   Patur,  did  not 


THE    SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         ];37 

then,  like  his  present  successor,  have  a  safe  yearly 
income  of  four  thousand  silver  rubles. 

It  was  therefore  that  the  eye  lingered  with 
delight  on  Bertila's  farm-house,  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  cluirch,  more  imposing  and  better  built  than 
any  of  the  rest,  and  surrounded  by  the  most 
fertile  fields.  The  summer  had  advanced  to  the 
middle  of  August,  and  the  harvesting  had  just 
begun.  More  than  sixty  persons,  men,  women, 
and  children  —  for  the  East  Bothnian  peasant 
women  work  out-doors  the  whole  summer — were 
diligently  cutting  the  golden  rye,  wliich  they 
gathered  into  sheaves,  and  placed  with  skillful 
hands  in  high,  comely  ricks.  The  day  was  warm, 
and  the  stooping  posture  which  the  work  required 
was  very  tiresome;  so  it  frequently  happened  that 
some  idler  among  the  workers  straightened  him- 
self up  and  threw  longing  glances  at  the  soft  turf 
around  the  edge  of  the  field,  which  seemed 
especially  intended  for  a  resting-place.  But  at 
the  same  time  he  did  not  forget  to  glance  timidly 
at  an  old  man  in  a  wide  gray  homespun  jacket, 
evidently  a  kind  of  overseer.  Whenever  anyone 
shirked  a  little,  he  heard  his  neighbor  whisper, 
"Larsson  is  coming!  "  which  instantly  had  a  mar- 
vellous effect,  not  unlike  a  foretaste  of  the   lash. 

But  Larsson — a  little  dumpy  old  man,  between 
whose  thick  beard  and  busliy  eyebrows  gleamed 
an  expression  rather  kind-hearted  and  good- 
humored  than  severe — was  at  this  moment  busy 
with  one  of  the  working  women,  who,  on  account 
of  the  heat  and  the  heavy  work,  had  sunk  fainting 
on  the  sfround. 

To  judge   from   her  pale  features,  this  woman 
was  no  longer  young;  she   had  perhaps  seen  six- 
and-thirty  summers;  but  to  judge  from  her  slender 
6* 


138  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

form,  or  the  mild,  warm  expression  of  her  blue 
eyes,  one  could  scarcely  believe  that  she  was 
past  twenty.  Her  whole  fif^ure  bore  the  stamp 
of  rare  but  prematurely  faded  beauty,  and  of  much 
siiflFering  and  much  submission.  She  had  worn  a  fine 
white  flannel  jacket,  which  was  taken  off  on 
account  of  the  heat,  disclosing  sleeves  of  the 
whitest  linen,  a  red  bodice,  after  the  fashion  of 
the  peasantry,  with  a  short  striped  woolen  skirt, 
and  a  little  checked  handkerchief  tied  like  a 
bandage  around  her  head,  to  keep  up  her  long 
flaxen  hair.  She  had  worked  like  all  the  others, 
but  her  strength  was  not  as  great  as  theirs.  She 
had  sunk  down  with  the  sickle  in  her  hand; 
and  those  nearest  her  had,  with  evident  respect 
and  love,  carried  her  to  the  soft  grass,  where  they 
tried,  with  a  drink  of  fresh  water  from  the  spring, 
to  recall  her  to  life. 

"  There  now,  Meri  !  "  (Emerentia)  said  old 
Larsson,  while  with  a  fatherly  sympathy  he  held 
the  fainting  woman's  head  on  his  knees,  and 
bathed  her  temples  with  cold  water;  "  there,  my 
child,  don't  be  foolish  now,  and  die  from  your  old 
friend;  what  joy  would  he  then  have  on  earth?  .  . 
She  doesn't  hear  me,  poor  child  !  Where  was 
there  ever  such  a  father  as  hers?  To  force  that 
delicate  creature  to  work  in  such  a  heat!  Drink  a 
little — that's  right  .  .  .  it  is  real  good  of  you; 
now  open  your  beautiful  eyes  again.  Do  not  be 
troubled,  Meri;  we  will  go  up  to  tlie  house.  You 
shall  rest  there,  and  need  not  work  any  more  to- 
day." 

The  pale  and  delicate  woman  tried  to  rise  and 
take  up  the  sickle.  "  Thank  you,  Larsson,"  said 
she,  in  a  faint  but  melodious  voice;  "I  feel  better 
now.     I  will  work;  father  wishes  it." 


THE    SWORD   AND    THE  PLOUGH.         139 


"  Father  wishes  it!  "  ejaculated  the  little  old 
man,  testily;  "but  you  see  I  do  not.  I  forbid  you 
to  work;  I  do,  Meri:  and  even  if  your  father  were 
to  turn  me  out  of  doors,  and  I  had  to  go  and  beg 
my  bread, you  should  not  work  more  to-day.  Well, 
well,  dear  child,  don't  take  it  so  hard;  your  father 
isn't  so  stupid  as  all  that;  he  cannot  help  under- 
standing that  you  have  n't  arms  like  the  rest  of  us. 
You  are  not  to  be  blamed  for  that;  you  take  after 
your  dead  mother,  who  was  born  a  lady,  and  your 
education  in  Stockholm,  .  .  .  There,  there!  come, 
let  us  go  home.      Don't  be  stubborn,  now,  Meri!" 

"  Let  go  of  me,  Larsson;  there  he  comes  him- 
self," exclaimed  Meri,  tearing  herself  loose  and 
grasping  the  sickle,  with  which  she  again  began 
to  mow  the  golden  straw.  But  as  she  bent  down, 
it  grew  dark  before  her  eyes;  and,  for  the  second 
time,  she  sank,  pale  and  unconscious,  between  the 
waving  stalks. 

At  that  moment  the  efforts  of  all  the  laborers 
redoubled;  for  he  approached  in  person,  the  stern 
and  dreaded  master  of  Bertila  farm.  Like  a  dark 
cloud,  he  came  slowly  along  the  path  from  the 
house,  a  tall  old  man  of  seventy,  as  yet  little  bent 
by  age.  His  attire  did  not  differ  from  that  usually 
worn  by  the  peasants  in  summer-time:  wide  shirt- 
sleeves, a  long  red-striped  vest,  short  linen  panta- 
loons, blue  stockings,  and  skillfully-made  bark 
shoes;  but  on  his  white  head  he  wore  a  pointed 
cap,  knit  of  red  yarn,  the  height  of  which  gave  his 
tall  figure  a  still  loftier  appearance.  But  in  spite 
of  the  simplicity  of  his  costume,  his  whole  exterior 
was  in  the  highest  degree  commanding.  His  tall 
straight  form,  decided  bearing,  sliarp,  penetrating 
look,  and  an  habitual  expression  of  resolution,  love 
of  authority,  and  severity,  around  the  tightly-drawn 


140  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


upper  lip,  indicated  at  once  the  former  political 
leader  and  the  rich  and  powerful  land-owner, 
accustomed  to  rule  over  many  hundred  subordi-  ^ 
nates.  On  seeing  this  old  man,  one  understood 
why  he  was  known  in  many  adjacent  parishes 
under  the  name  of  "  the  Peasant  King." 

Old  Aaron  Bertila,  cold  and  calm,  approached 
the  spot  where  his  only  daughter  lay  in  a  fainting 
fit. 

"  Put  her  in  the  hay- wagon,  and  take  her  up  to 
the  house,"  ordered  he;  "she  will  be  back  to  her 
work  in  a  couple  of  hours." 

"But,  Bertila,"  began  Larsson,  excitedly. 

Bertila  turned  around  with  a  glance  before 
which  the  other  suddenly  hushed;. then  he  walked 
on  through  the  field  as  if  nothing  had  happened, 
observing  with  a  sure  eye  the  diligence  of  the 
laborers,  now  blaming,  now  praising  them;  some- 
times breaking  off  an  ear,  and  examining  closely  the 
number  and  weight  of  the  grains.  From  the  barn 
one  could  overlook  the  whole  great  golden-yellow 
harvest  field  —  a  new  piece  of  ground,  more  than  a 
hundred  acres  in  extent,  lately  reclaimed  from  the 
swamp.  The  old  man  gazed  with  proud  satisfac- 
tion at  this  waving  sea  of  grain;  his  bearing 
became  more  erect,  his  chest  expanded,  and  he 
beckoned  Larsson  to  him. 

"  Do  you  remember  this  tract  as  it  was  four- 
and-thirty  years  ago?  Then  Fleming's  cavalry 
scoured  the  country  like  heathens;  the  village  lay 
in  ashes,  and  the  fields  were  tramped  down  by 
horses'  hoofs.  Here,  where  we  stand,  close  by  the 
village,  was  the  wilderness;  naked,  half-burned 
sturnps  stood  between  mud-puddles  and  quag- 
mires; no  road  or  path  led  hither;    and  even  the 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE   PLOUGH.         141 

very  wolves  of  the  forest  thought  this  place  too 
misenible  to  seek  a  den  in  it." 

"  I  remember  it  well,"  replied  Larsson,  mo- 
notonously, 

"  Now  look  around,  old  friend,  and  say,,  who 
rebuilt  this  village  from  its  ashes,  more  beautiful 
than  ever  before?  Who  tilled  this  wilderness; 
who  made  roads  and  paths;  who  measured  the  land; 
who  drained  the  morass;  who  ploughed  this  glori- 
ously fertile  soil;  who  sowed  this  whole  field  which 
now  waves  in  the  wind,  and  will  in  a  few  days  sup- 
ply hundreds  of  human  beings  with  its  harvest? 
Say,  Larsson,  who  is  the  man  who  did  this  great 
work?"  and  the  old  man's  eyes  shone  with  enthu- 
siasm. 

But  the  little  dumpy  person  at  his  side  seemed 
to  be  filled  with  a  different  feeling.  He  took  off 
his  old  worn  hat  humbly,  clasped  his  hands,  and 
said,  earnestly. 

"  Nothing  is  he  who  sows;  nothino;  is  he  who 
waters;  God  alone  gives  the  growth!  " 

Bertila,  absorbed  in  thought,  scarcely  heard 
him;  and  continued,  without  suspecting  his  mean- 
ing: 

"  Yes,  by  Heaven!  I  have  seen  evil  days,  times 
of  want,  misery,  and  despair,  which  the  sword 
brought  upon  the  earth;  aiid  I  have  myself  drawn 
the  sword  to  destroy  my  enemy's  home,  and  I  have 
tried  victory  as  well  as  defeat,  both  to  my  detri- 
ment. Therefore  I  have  a  right  to  rejoice  in  the 
work  of  peace.  I  know  what  the  sword  produces, 
and  what  the  plough  achieves.  In  the  steel  of  the 
sword  lurks  an  evil  spirit,  to  revel  in  human  blood 
and  tears:  the  sword  kills,  the  sword  destroys;  but 
the  plough  gives^life  and  happiness.  .  -.  .  You 
see,  Larsson,  the  plough  has  made  this  field.    Over 


142  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

there  at  Korsholm  is  the  Finnish  coat  of  arms,  a 
lion  with  a  naked  sword.  Were  I  king,  I  should 
say:  'Away  with  the  sword,  and  here  with  the 
plough! '  The  plough  is  the  true  weapon  of  Fin- 
land. If  we  have  bread,  we  have  plenty  of  arms; 
if  we  have  arms,  we  will  drive  our  enemies  from 
our  homes;  but,  without  bread,  Larsson,  what  good 
is  steel  and  powder  to  us?  " 

"  Bertila,"  said  Larsson,  hesitatingly,  "  you  are 
a  stranofe  man.  You  hate  soldiers  and  war;  but 
that  I  can  easily  understand:  they  burnt  your  farm, 
and  drove  your  first  wife  and  her  little  children  into 
the  woods  to  die.  You  yourself  have  fought  at  the 
head  of  the  peasantry,  and  barely  escaped  the 
slaughter  on  Ilmola's  ice.  That  such  things  are 
not  easily  forgotten,  I  well  understand;  but  what 
I  cannot  comprehend  is,  that  you,  a  friend  of  the 
peasantry,  a  soldier-hater,  first  took  me,  an  old 
starving  soldier,  as  overseer  on  your  farm,  then 
equipped  my  Lasse  —  God  save  the  boy! — for  the 
war,  and  finally  sent  your  own  grandson,  Meri's 
child,  our  little  Gosta,  yet  beardless,  into  the  field 
among  the  king's  cavalry." 

Old  Bertila's  look  darkened  strangely.  A 
sensitive  chord  had  been  touched,  and  he  glanced 
shyly  around,  as  if  he  feared  a  listener  behind  the 
walls  of  the  barn. 

"  Who  speaks  to  me  of  Meri's  child?"  said  he, 
in  a  low  voice.  "  I  know  none  other  than  my  son 
Gosta,  born  of  my  second  wife  during  the  journey^ 
to  Stockholm;  and  God  be  merciful  unto  you  if 
ever  .  .  Let  us  forget  that  matter.  Why  I  took 
you?  why  I  sent  the  boy  into  the  field?  Well, 
it  does  n't  concern  you." 

"  Well,  then,  keep  it  to  yourself ;  I  know  al- 
ready more  than  I  wish." 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE   PLOUGH.        143 

"Tell  me,  if  you  can,  Larsson,  what  elements 
are  needed  for  aa  honest  and  Christian  govern- 
ment?" 

Larsson  looked  at  nim  in  silent  astonishment, 

"I  will  tell  you.  The  sword  is  composed  of 
two  parts:  the  blade  and  the  handle.  So  likewise 
for  the  plough  two  forces  are  necessary:  one  that 
draws  and  one  that  drives.  And  two  forces  con- 
joined form  a  Christian  government:  namely,  the 
people  and  the  king.  But  tliat  which  comes  be- 
tween brings  dissension  and  ruin;  it  arrogates  to 
itself  the  king's  power  and  the  people's  property. 
It  is  a  monster!  " 

"  1  know  you  hate  the  nobility." 

"And  therefore" — Bertila  laid  an  emphasis  on 
his  words, and  uttered  them  with  an  almost  ironical 
smile,  which  seemed  to  turn  his  meaning  into  a  jest 
— "  therefore,  you  see,  my  son  must  eitiier  be  p£,as- 
ant  or  h%ng\  nothing  more,  and  nothing  less!  " 

Larsson  looked  at  him  in  dismay.  He  had  not 
imagined  the  depth  of  ambition  which  had  hitherto, 
deeply  concealed,  glowed  in  the  old  peasant's  heart. 
He  did  not  dare  to  believe  what  he,  not  without  rea- 
son, considered  the  extreme  of  crazy  presumption. 

"  You  can  certainly  never  hope,"  said  he,  tim- 
idly, "  that  Meri's  son,  with  his  birth — " 

The  tall  old  man's  eyes  flashed,  but  the  words 
came  almost  inaudibly  from  his  lips,  as  if  he  tried  in 
vain  to  struggle  against  an  inner  impulse,  to  express 
for  once,  for  the  first  and  perhaps  for  the  last  time, 
the  bold  thought  which  had  for  many  years  been 
growing  in  his  tempestuous  soul. 

"  Kino-  Gustaf  Adolf  has  onlv  a  dauo-hter,"  said 
he,  at  last,  witli  a  peculiar  expression. 

"  Lady  Christina.    .    .    .    Yes." 


144  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"But  the  kingdom,  in  war  with  half  the  world, 
will  need,  after  his  death,  a  man  on  the  throne." 

"  Bertila,  what  does  this  mean?" 

"  It  means  that  in  my  childhood  I  heard  the  son 
of  King  Erik  and  the  peasant  girl  Karin  declared 
the  successor  to  the  crown." 

"Are  you  out  of  your  senses?" 

Again  an  ironical  smile  flitted  over  the  old 
man's  lips. 

"  Do  5'ou  not  understand,"  said  he,  coldly,  "how 
it  is  possible  to  hate  soldiers  and  noblemen,  and 
yet  send  one's  son  to  war  as  the  shortest  road  to 
distinction  under  a  king's  eyes?" 

"I  beg  of  you,  Bertila,  put  aside  such  wild  fan- 
cies; you  are  a  sensible  man,  when  the  spirit  of 
pride  does  not  get  possession  of  your  restless 
mind.     Your  plan  will  fail;  it  must  fail."  - 

"It  cannot  fail." 

-^'How?     It  cannot  fail?" 

"  No!  Have  I  not  told  you  that  GSsta  must  be 
either  king  or  peasant? — which,  I  care  not.  If  he 
wishes  to  remain  a  peasant,  as  I  am,  so  be  it." 

"  But  if  he  neither  will  nor  can  remain  a  peas- 
ant? If  he  gets  it  into  his  head  to  become  a 
nobleman,  to  fio-ht  for  a  coat  of  arms?  . 
Remember  that  you  have  put  him  on  the  road  to 
a  noble  title.  He  is  already,  as  an  officer,  a  noble- 
man's equal." 

Bertila  seemed  lost  in  thougrht. 

"  No!  "  exclaimed  he;  "it  is  impossible.  His 
blood     .     .     .    his  education     .     .     .    my  will." 

"His  blood!  then  you  no  longer  remember  that 
nobility  flows  in  it  from  both  sides?  His  education! 
— and  you  sent  him  to  Stockholm  at  twelve  years 
of  age;  you  have  allowed  him  to  grow  up  among 
young  patricians  whom  he  has  daily  heard  express 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         145 

scorn  and  contempt  for  the  plebeian  classes.  Your 
will ! — foolisli  father,  to  believe  that  you  can,  with 
the  word  of  authority,  bend  a  youth's  inclination 
from  tlie  direction  which  such  powerful  influences 
have  o;iven  it !  " 

The  old  man  remained  silent  for  a  moment; 
then  he  said,  with  forced  calmness: 

"  Lar-son,  you  are  a  credulous  fool;  you  take  in 
earnest  what  1  joke  about  in  a  merry  moment.  I 
will  answer  for  the  boy.  Let  us  speak  no  more 
about  it.  .  .  .  But  take  care; — not  a  word  of 
what  has  been  said  !     Do  you  understand?" 

"  I  am  your  old  friend,  Bertila.  Since  the  mo- 
ment when  I,  a  horseman  with  Svidje  Klas,  helped 
you  to  escape  from  llmola,  you  have  repaid  me  the 
service  many  times  over;  I  can  never  desert  you. 
But,  you  see,  I  love  your  children  as  my  own — yes, 
even  more;  I  cannot  bear  to  have  you  make  the 
boy  unhappy.  And  Meri  .  .  .  Are  you  a  father, 
Bertila?  How  do  you  treat  your  child,  your  only 
daughter,  who  complies  with  your  smallest  whim, 
who  does  everytliiiig,  by  submission  and  obedience, 
to  atone  for  the  fault  of  her  youth?  You  treat  her 
harder  than  the  lowest  of  your  servant  girls;  you 
let  her,  frail  and  weak,  perform  the  heaviest  tasks; 
you  see  her  sink  to  the  ground,  and  you  do  not  lift 
up  your  own  child.  You  are  cruel,  Bertila  .  .  . 
more  than  cruel;  you  are  an  inhuman  father!" 

"That  is  something  you  do  not  understand," 
answered  the  old  ma)),  gioon)iIy.  "  Such  tender- 
hearted fellows  as  you  do  not  comprehend  what  it 
means  to  follow  one's  way  straight  ahead,  without 
looking  either  to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  Meri 
takes  after  her  mother.  She  has  something  of  the 
fine  lady  in  her,  and  that  must  be  uprooted.  She 
cannot  become  a   queen,  like   Karin   Mansdotter; 

K  7 


146  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

well,  then,  she  shall  be  a  peasant  woman,  from  top 
to  toe.  King  or  people.  ...  I  have  said  what  I 
think  of  the  intermediate  class,  and  now  you  under- 
stand why  I  act  as  I  do.  Come,  let  us  return  to  the 
laborers," 

"And  Meri  .  .  .  spare  her  to-day,  at  least." 
"She  shall  work  like  the  rest  this  afternoon." 


CHAPTER     II. 

ASHAMED    OF    THE    PEASANT    NAME. 

THE  cabin  of  the  East  Bothnian  peasant  is  in 
our  time  more  spacious,  lighter,  and  more 
respectable  in  its  whole  appearance,  than  is  found 
in  any  other  part  of  Finland.  Sometimes  it  con- 
sists of  two  stories,  or  has,  at  least,  a  garret;  the 
windows  are  often  three  panes  in  height.  The 
house  is  almost  always  painted,  usually  red,  occa- 
sionally with  white  cross-beams  and  window-shut- 
ters; but  now  and  then  yellow  oil  painting  is  used. 
The  whole  bears  evidence  of  skill  and  prosperity, 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  East  Bothnian  neither 
builds  such  large  and  compact  villages  as  the 
Tavastlander  and  the  Abo  peasant,  nor,  except  in 
cases  of  necessity,  such  solitary  farm-houses  as  the 
rest  of  his  countrymen. 

At  the  time  of  our  storv,  "  smoke-huts  "  were 
yet  in  general  use  among  almost  the  whole  Finnish 
population;  only  peasants  of  Swedish  origin  used 
fire-places  with  regular  chimneys.  But  even  then 
were  seen  in  the  Finnish  districts  of  East  Bothnia, 
nearest  the  coast,  houses  of  more  modern  style, 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH         147 

copied  from  their  Swedish  neighbors.  The  newly- 
founded  towns,  which  attracted  the  inland  people 
to  the  coast,  had  already  bei^un  to  accustom  them 
to  greater  comfort;  and  the  more  wealthy  the  peas- 
ant became,  the  sooner  did  his  house,  like  his  per- 
son, assume  a  more  improved  aspect.  It  is  true, 
the  extravagance  which  the  sumptuary  laws  of  the 
sixteenth  century  so  severely  prohibited  was  found 
only  on  the  estates  of  the  nobility  and  the  wealthy 
Abo  burghers;  the  home-brewed  ale  foamed  not 
the  less  in  the  peasant's  tankard,  and  Holland 
spices  were  kept  in  his  closet  for  festive  occasions. 

Ever  since  the  flames  of  the  Club  War  destroyed 
the  huts  in  Storkvro  Villao-e,  the  Swedish  and 
Finnish  styles  of  building  were  seen  peacefully 
mingled  together.  Bertila's  house,  the  largest  and 
richest  in  the  village,  was  built  entirely  after  the 
new  style:  it  had  stairs,  a  front  porch,  and  two  lit- 
tle chambers  adjoining  the  large  room,  one  for  the 
master  and  the  other  for  his  daughter.  The  rest  of 
the  people  on  the  place  lived  mostly  together  in  the 
large  room;  but  now,  in  summer  time,  the  younger 
portion  slept  outside.  At  that  period,  the  large 
clock,  with  its  blue  and  red  case,  which  is  now  the 
chief  ornament  in  every  wealthy  farm-house,  did 
not  exist.  The  large  smoothly  planed  table,  with 
its  high  seat  for  the  master  of  the  house,  stood, 
surrounded  by  benches,  by  the  innermost  wall  op- 
posite the  door.  It  was  near  the  dinner  time,  and 
in  the  Targe  fire-place  sputtered  a  porridge-kettle. 
The  room  was  as  yet  almost  empty;  a  cat  purred  on 
the  bench;  a  girl  of  fourteen  stirred  the  porridge; 
and  Meri  sat,  with  a  piece  of  knitting- work  in  her 
hand,  not  far  from  the  fire-place. 

Poor  Meri  had  recovered  from  her  fainting- 
fit, but   was   still   very   pale.     Her  long  hair  fell 


148  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

freely  over  her  half-covered  shoulders,  and  her  look 
was  novp  and  then  directed  shyly  tov^ard  the  door, 
as  if  she  feared  every  moment  that  her  father  would 
enter.  Then  ag^ain  she  looked  at  her  knittinof- work. 
She  was  making  ascarf  of  the  most  beautiful  colors, 
and  singing  at  the  same  time  an  old  Swedish  folk- 
song : 

"  My  scarf  with  roses  now  I  weave, 

That  shall  my  dearest  friend  receive; 

When  from  war's  terrors  to  his  home 

To  me  returning  he  shall  come." 

We  have  stated  that  Meri  was  no  longer  young. 
The  traces  which  suffering  had  left  on  her  once 
blooming  cheeks  told  of  many  a  year  of  sorrow;  but 
at  this  moment,  when  she  looked  at  the  scarf,  her 
face  had  an  almost  child-like  expression  of  inner 
satisfaction.  It  was  evident  that  the  work  delight- 
ed her,  and  that  the  friend  she  sang  of  was  very 
dear  to  her.  Her  life  with  her  hard  father  had  lit- 
tle joy  for  her;  but  when  her  eyes  fell  on  the  scarf, 
she  seemed  to  read  in  its  variegated  figures  a  whole 
future  of  quiet  bliss.  For  this  scarf  she  lived;  the 
thought  was  her  only  joy — an  idolatrous  joy — the 
thought  of  her  son!  And  again  she  was  heard  to 
sing  : 

"  Here  weave  I  pearls  so  fine 

For  tliis  dear  friend  of  mine; 

No  king  upon  his  throne 

Shall  this  scarf's  equal  own." 

At  that  moment  Bertila,  the  father,  entered,  fol- 
lowed by  Larsson  and  the  whole  gang  of  laborers. 
The  old  husbandman's  look  was  dark;  he  could  not 
conceal  from  himself  that  Larsson's  predictions  were 
too  likely  to  be  fulfilled.  His  son  a  nobleman  ! 
This  possibility,  which  in  his  eyes  was  a  disgrace, 
had  up  to  this  time  never  entered  his  mind. 


THE    SWORD   AND    THE  PLOUGH.         140 

The  last  words  of  Meri's  song  had  just  died  away. 
At  her  father's  entrance  she  hid  her  scarf  quickly 
under  her  apron;  but  the  old  man's  suspicious  eye 
detected  the  secret. 

"  Do  you  sit  there  dreaming  again,  you  idler,  in- 
stead of  serving  the  porridge  !"  exclaimed  he,  in  a 
hard  tone.  "  What  have  you  in  your  apron  ?  Out 
with  it!" 

Meri  was  obliged  to  show  the  half-finished  scarf, 
her  precious  secret,  before  the  eyes  of  all.  The 
father  looked  at  it  a  moment  with  contempt;  then 
he  tore  it  in  two  and  threw  it  into  the  corner. 

"  I  have  told  you  many  a  time,"  said  he,  coldly, 
"  that  an  honest  peasant  woman  has  nothing  to  do 
with  such  nonsense,  suited  only  to  the  nobility. 
Let  us  say  grace." 

And  the  old  man  folded  his  hands,  according  to 
ancient  custom,  while  all  the  others  followed  his 
example.  But  before  the  prayer  passed  any  one's 
lips,  Larsson  stepped  into  the  middle  of  the  floor. 
His  usually  good-humored  face  flamed  with  indig- 
nation, and  the  honest  and  frank  accent  of  his 
voice  made  every  one  forget  to  laugh  at  his  little 
round  figure. 

"  You  ought  to  blush,  Bertila,"  said  he,  "  to 
scold  your  own  daughter  before  all  the  folks  !  She 
works  like  a  slave  night  and  day,  more  than  any  of 
us;  and  you  call  her  an  idler  !  I  tell  you  to  your 
face,  master  of  the  house  as  vou  are,  although  I  eat 
your  bread,  and  without  it  have  scarcely  anything 
but  a  beggar's  staff,  that  such  an  unjust  father  is 
not  worthy  of  so  good  a  daughter;  and  rather  than 
see  this  misery  day  out  and  day  in,  I  prefer  to  go 
and  beg  my  bread.  But  you  will  have  to  answer, 
before  our  Lord,  for  your  child.  And  now  say  your 
grace  if  you  can;  and  may  the  food   taste   good  to 


150  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

you.  Farewell,  Bertila;  I  will  not  endure  this  life 
any  longer," 

"  Turn  the  boorish  fellow,  who  defies  his  mas- 
ter, out  of  doors  !"  burst  out  Bertila,  with  unusual 
violence. 

No  one  stirred  from  the  spot.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life  the  old  peasant  king  saw  his  commands 
disobeyed. 

"  Dear  master,"  began  the  oldest  of  the  labor- 
ers, "  we,  and  all  the  folks,  think  just  so     .     ." 

A  powerful  blow  from  the  master  stretched  the 
speaker  on  the  floor  before  he  had  time  to  finish.  In 
vain  did  Larsson  offer  to  go;  in  vain  did  Meri  try 
to  intercede;  so  strong  was  the  sense  of  justice  in 
this  people,  that  they  all,  not  from  preconcerted 
action,  but  from  their  own  conviction  of  the  right, 
arraved  themselves,  as  one  man,  agfainst  the  mas- 
ter's  tyranny.  Fourteen  muscular  men  stood  erect 
and  resolute  before  the  enraged  Bertila,  whose  tall 
figure  towered  threateningly  in  the  midst  of  the  cir- 
cle. One  more  stroke  of  his  fist,  and  they  would  all 
have  left  his  service,  and  perhaps  shut  him  up  in 
the  little  chamber  until  his  answer  should  have  sub- 
sided;  for  the  higher  to  the  north  the  Finnish  peas- 
ant lives,  the  more  sensitive  is  he  to  blows.  Ber- 
tila knew  his  people,  and  wisely  understood  that  his 
heat  had  led  him  too  far.  He  sousrht  some  means 
of  getting  out  of  the  difficulty  without  too  great  hu- 
miliation. 

"  What  is  it  you  want  ?"  asked  he,  regaining 
self-possession. 

Those  spoken  to  looked  at  each  other. 

"  You  are  wrong,  master,"  said  one  of  the  bold- 
est, at  last ;  "  you  have  scolded  Meri  undeserved- 
ly; you  have  wished  to   turn    Larsson    out  of  the 


THE    SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         151 

house,  and   have    struck    Simon;  you    have    done 
wrong  !" 

"  Meri,  come  here  !" 

Slie  went  to  him. 

"  You  are  no  longer  a  child,  Meri.  If  you  can 
not  endure  to  live  with  your  father  in  his  old  age, 
then  you  are  at  liberty  to  stay  on  my  farm  at  Ilmo- 
la.     You  are  free;  go,  my  child!" 

Bertila  knew  his  dauo-hter.  Those  few  words, 
"  Go,  my  child  !"  uttered  in  a  milder  tone  than  she 
was  accustomed  to  hear,  were  sufficient  to  soften  her 
heart. 

"Do  not  send  me  away,  father,"  said  she.  "  I 
never  will  forsake  you." 

This  reply  caused  her  defenders  to  waver,  and 
the  old  man  saw  his  advantao-e. 

"  Here  with  the  catechism  !"  cried  he,  in  a  thun- 
dering voice. 

The  fourteen-years-old  Greta  stepped  up  with 
the  book,  as  was  the  custom  on  sacred  days,  and 
read  aloud  : 

"  Ye  servants,  obey  your  temporal  masters  with 
fear  and  trembling,  in  the  simplicity  of  your  hearts. 
Ye  servants,  be  submissive  to  your  masters  in  all 
fear,  not  only  the  good  and  the  mild,  but  also  the 
unworthy." 

These  timely  words  did  not  fail  of  their  eflfect. 
Bertila  and  his  people  lived  at  a  period  when  the 
power  of  the  master  and  father  retained  all  its  orig- 
inal and  stern  sanctity  in  essence,  and  not  merely 
in  title;  a  power  "by  the  grace  of  God."  The  well- 
known  words  impressed  upon  them  from  childhood, 
the  old  man's  commanding  assurance,  and  Meri's 
example  of  complete  submission  to  the  paternal 
rule,  all  conspired  to  pacify  the  lately  excited  minds, 
and  the  revolt  was  quelled. 


152  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


Grace  was  said.  Each  one  took  his  seat  with- 
out further  murmurings;  only  the  old  Larsson  stood, 
gloomy  and  hesitating,  with  his  hand  on   the  latch. 

Then  the  door  suddenly  opened  and  a  stranger 
entered.  The  new-corner  was  a  bearded  soldier,  in 
a  broad-brimmed  hat  decorated  with  a  gracefully 
fastened  eagle  plume.  He  wore  a  yellow  woollen 
jacket,  with  a  girdle,  and  a  long  sword  at  his  side; 
he  had  short  top-boots,  and  held  a  cudgel  in  his 
hand. 

"Well,  by  Saint  Lucifer!"  exclaimed  he,  mer- 
rily; "I  come  as  if  I  were  invited.  God's  peace, 
peasants!  Make  room  at  table;  I  am  hungry  as 
a  monk  during  mass,  and  can't  get  to  the  parsonage 
in  this  cursed  heat.     Have  you  an}'  beer?" 

The  old  man  in  the  high  seat,  whose  mind  was 
yet  in  a  tumult  under  the  calm  surface,  rose  half- 
way, but  seated  himself  again. 

"  Sit  down,  countryman,"  said  the  old  man, 
mildly.  "Aaron  Bertila's  table  has  also  a  place  for 
self  invited  o-uests." 

"Aha!  "  continued  the  new-comer,  as  he  helped 
himself  without  any  ceremony,  apparently  accus- 
tomed to  look  out  for  number  one.  "Alia,  so  you 
are  Bertila!  Glad  to  hear  it,  comrade!  Honor  for 
honor;  I  will  then  tell  j-ou  that  I  am  Bengt  Kris- 
terson,  from  Limingo,  sergeant  in  His  Majestv's 
brave  East  Bothnian  regiment,  and  sent  here 'to 
superintend  the  conscription.  A  little  more  ale  in 
the  mug,  peasants.  Well,  well,  be  not  afraid,  girls, 
I  won't  bite.  .  .  .  Bertila,"  continued  tlie  soldier, 
with  his  mouth  full;  "what  the  devil  ! — is  it  you, 
peasant,  who  are  Lieutenant  Bertel's  father?" 

"  I  do  not  know  that  name,"  answered  the  old 
man,  piqued  by  the  soldier's   patronizing  maimer. 

•'Are  you  crazy,  old  fellow?     Do  you  not  know 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.        153 

Gustaf  Bertel,  who  only  half  a  year  ago  called 
himself  Bertila?" 

"My  son!  my  son!"  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
with  a  heart-rending  voice.  "  Unhappy  father 
that  I  am!     He  is  ashamed  of  his  peasant  name!  " 

"  Peasant  name!  "  repeated  the  jolly  sergeant, 
with  such  an  immoderate  laugh  that  the  ale  jug 
jumped  about  on  the  table.  "Have  you  also 
names,  peasants?  Well,  I  declare  if  I  don't 
feel  like  getting  rid  of  mine!  You  are  a  bright 
chap,  old  fellow  .  .  .  tell  me  what  the  devil  do 
you  need  a  name  for?"  And  with  this  he  looked 
at  his  host  with  such  good-natured  impudence  that 
the  insulting  words  were  considerably  modified. 

The  old  Bertila  scarcely  honored  him  with  a 
glance. 

"Fool  that  I  was!  I  sent  out  a  beardless  boy, 
and  thought  I  sent  a  man,"  added  he,  gloomily,  to 
himself. 

But  the  sergeant,  who  perhaps  had  taken  a  dram 
before,  and  had  now  peeped  far  down  into  the  jug, 
did  not  seem  inclined  to  drop  a  good  subject. 

"  Don't  look  so  fierce,  old  boy,"  continued  he, 
in  the  same  tone.  "  You  peasants  associate  so 
much  with  oxen  and  sheep  that  you  become  just 
like  them.  If  you  were  a  bit  civil,  you  would  have 
sent  a  pretty  girl  to  fill  my  jug.  It  is  empty,  you 
see — empty  as  your  cranium.  But  you  turnip- 
peelers  don't  appreciate  the  honor  which  is  con- 
ferred upon  you  in  having  a  royal  sergeant  for  a 
ofuest.  You  see,  old  fellow,  a  soldier  in  these  times 
is  everything;  he  has  a  name  that  rings,  because  he 
has  a  sword  that  rings.  But  you,  old  ploughshare, 
have  nothing  but  porridge  in  your  head  and  a 
turnip  in  your  breast.  Fill  your  mug,  old  fellow; 
here's  to  the  brave   Lieutenant  Bertel's  success! 


154  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Do  you  refuse  to  drink  the  health  of  an  honest 
soldier?  .  .  .  Out  upon  you,  peasant!"  And 
the  sergeant,  in  the  consciousness  of  his  dignity, 
made  bold  to  strike  his  fist  upon  the  table  with 
such  force  that  the  wooden  platters  danced  about, 
and  even  the  large  wooden  bowls  seemed  disposed 
to  make  for  the  floor  with  all  their  contents. 

The  first  effect  of  this  martial  joke  was  that  six 
or  eight  of  the  men  rose  from  the  benches,  and 
seemed  ready  to  teach  tlie  uninvited  guest  respect 
for  the  peasantry  in  a  manner  that  would  make  it- 
self felt.  But  the  old  Bertila  prevented  them. 
He  had  risen  with  apparent  composure,  approached 
the  sergeant  with  a  firm  step,  and  without  uttering 
a  single  word  in  reply,  seized  him  by  the  neck  with 
the  left  hand,  placed  the  right  on  his  back,  lifted 
him  from  his  seat,  and  carrying  the  good  Bengt 
Kristerson  to  the  door,  threw  him  on  a  pile  of 
shavings  at  the  foot  of  the  steps.  So  co!ifounded 
was  the  jolly  sergeant  at  this  unexpected  grasp, 
that  he  scarcely  moved  his  sinewy  arm  to  defend 
himself;  in  which  event  his  seventy-year-old  ad- 
versary could  scarcely  have  come  off  victorious. 

"  Go!  "  cried  Bertila,  after  him,  "  and  keep  your 
welcome  in  remembrance  of  the  Stoi'kyro  peas- 
ants! " 

Nothing  makes  so  strong  an  impression  on  hu- 
man nature  as  a  resolute  courage  joined  with  a 
strong  arm.  When  the  old  man  again  entered  the 
room,  he  was  surrounded  by  his  people  with  admir- 
ation borderiiiCT'  on  enthusiasm.  Fora^otten  was  all 
the  animosity  which  had  just  before  placed  master 
and  servants  in  a  hostile  attitude  toward  each  other. 
The  rivalry  between  the  sword  and  the  plough  is  as 
old  as  the  world.  The  Club  War,  which  had  re- 
sulted from  this  rivalry,  and  considerably  increased 


THE   SWORD  AND   THE  PLOUGH.         155 

it,  was  still  fresh  in  memory.  These  peasants, 
whose  independent  minds  never  bent,  like  many  of 
their  countrymen,  beneath  the  oppression  of  their 
land-holders,  saw  with  delis^ht  tijeir  human  worth 
defended  against  a  soldier's  arrogance.  They  for- 
got, at  this  moment,  that  perhaps  before  long  more 
than  one  of  them  would  don  the  soldier's  cloak  to 
fight  for  his  fatherland.  Even  the  old  peasant 
chief,  elated  over  his  successful  exploit,  liad  got 
over  his  bad  humor.  For  the  first  time  in  a  lona: 
period  of  years,  they  saw  a  smile  on  his  lips;  and 
when  the  meal  was  over  he  began  to  relate  to  them 
some  of  his  former  adventures. 

"Never  can  I  forget  how  W3  cudgeled  the 
rascal  Abraham  Melchiorson,  the  man  who,  here  in 
Kyro,  seized  our  best  peasants,  and  had  them 
broken  on  the  wheel,  like  malefactors.  With 
fifty  men  he  had  gone  up  north.  It  was  winter- 
time. He  was  a  fine  gentleman,  who  got  the 
snuffles  from  the  cold,  and  rode  so  grandly  in  a 
splendid  wolf-skin  cloak.  But  when  he  approached 
Karleby  Church,  we  hid  ourselves  in  tlie  bushes, 
and  came  upon  him  like  Jehu;  beat  twenty-two  of 
his  men  to  death,  and  pommeled  him  black-and- 
blue.  But  every  time  he  expected  a  rap,  he  drew 
his  wolf  skin  cloak  over  his  ears,  and  thus  no  club 
could  reach  the  traitor.  '  Wait,'  said  Hans  Krank, 
from  Limingo,  who  led  us;  'that  wolf  we  will  yet 
whip  out  of  his  skin.'  With  this  he  drubbed 
Abraham  so  vigorously  that  he  was  obliged  to  let 
go  his  splendid  fur.  Krank  had  nothing  on  but  a 
jacket,  and  it  was  cold  enough,  God  knows;  he 
thought  the  fur  cloak  a  very  nice  thing,  and  drew 
it,  unobserved,  over  his  own  shoulders.  But,  as  all 
this  occurred  in  the  twilight,  the  others  did  not 
notice  that  Krank   had  crept   into   the   wolf-skin 


156  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

but  beg^n  agrain,  with  fresh  coaraoce,  to  belabor  the 
same  cloak,  to  which  we  had  got  used;  and  it  is 
verv  certain  that  Krank  had  a  warm  drubbing  that 
time.  But  Abraham  Melchiorson  became  so  light 
and  agile,  after  he  had  got  rid  of  his  cloak,  that  he 
took  to  his  heels,  and  ran  in  his  jacket  several  miles 
to  Huso  Farm,  where  Saka  Jakob,  from  Karleby, 
caught  him,  and  the  rascal  was  brought  to  Stock- 
holm: but  he  did  not  have  a  chance  to  lament  lon^ 
for  his  wolf-skin  cloak  before  the  duke  made  him  a 
head  shorter." 

"Yes,"  said  Larsson,  who  usually  took  the  part 
of  Fleming  and  his  people,  "that  time  you  had  the 
upper  hand.  Eleven  soldiers  had  remained  alive, 
but  feigned  death;  you  stripped  them  to  their  bare 
bodies,  and  at  midnight  they  crept,  half-frozen,  to 
the  chorister's  cottage,  and  were  taken  in.  But  the 
next  morninsT  vou  would  burv  them,  living,  under 
the  ice,  as  you  did  at  Lappfjard  River.  You  were 
wolves,  and  not  human  beings.  The  river  was  so 
shallow  that  you  were  obliged  to  push  the  men 
down  in  the  ice-hole  with  poles  when  they  tried  to 
resist.  Your  women  beat  them  on  the  head  with 
their  buckets." 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Larsson!  you  don't  know 
all  that  S^-idje-Klas  has  done,"  answered  Bertiia, 
irritated.  "  I  say  nothing  about  all  those  whom  he 
and  his  people  killed  or  broke  on  the  wheel.  But 
do  you  remember  Severin  Sigfridson,  at  Sorsan- 
koski?  When  he  had  surrounded  the  peasants,  he 
commanded  his  orderly  to  behead  them  one  bv  one: 
but  the  man  had  not  strength  for  more  than  twen- 
ty-four, and  told  the  fine  lord  to  behead  the  rest 
himself.  Then  the  gentleman  got  angry,  and  made 
the  peasants  first  cut  the  orderly  into  five  pieces, 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH         157 

and  then  do  the  same  to  each  other,  until  only  one 
was  left." 

"But  how  did  you  act,  mad  brutes,  on  Peter 
Gumse's  farm?  Your  people  sacked  the  house, 
broke  all  the  windows,  slaug-htered  the  cattle,  and 
set  the  cut-off  heads,  with  tlieir  mouths  wide  open, 
as  scarecrows  in  the  window.  Then  the  beams 
were  sawed  three-quarters  through,  so  that  when 
the  inmates  returned  the  whole  house  would  tum- 
ble on  their  heads.  And  when  you  caught  any 
horseman,  you  made  him  a  target  for  your  arrows." 

"It  isn't  worth  while  for  you  to  take  Svidje- 
Klas' part.  Do  you  remember  the  woman  to  whom 
one  of  x^xel  Kurk's  men  came,  and  killed  her  chil- 
dren before  her  own  eyes?  The  poor  mother  could 
not  stand  it,  but  she  and  her  half  grown  daughter 
seized  the  drunken  brute  around  the  waist,  beat 
him  on  the  head  with  a  pole,  and  then  pushed  him, 
half-fainting,  under  the  ice.  Then  came  Svidje- 
Klas,  and  cut  the  woman  in  two." 

"Idle  talk,  which  has  never  been  proven,"  re- 
plied Larsson,  gruffly. 

"The  dead  keep  silent,  like  good  children.  The 
five  thousand  slain  at  Ilmola  tell  no  tales." 

"Rather  than  molest  the  sergeant,  vou  should 
have  asked  him  for  news  from  vour  son  and  mine," 
resumed  Larsson,  to  get  away  from  their  usual  sub- 
ject of  contention,  the  fatal  Club  War. 

"Yes.  .  .  .  You  are  rio-lit.  I  must  know 
somcttiiiig  more  about  the  boys  and  the  war.  I  am 
going  to  Wasa  to-morrow." 

"Is  he  coming  home  soon? "asked  Meri,  shyly. 

"  Gosta — he  will  take  his  own  time,"  replied 
the  father,  angrily.  "  He  has  now  become  a  noble- 
man, who  feels  ashamed  of  his  old  father.  .  .  He 
blushes  for  the  peasant  name." 


158  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE    SOUTHERNER    IN    THE    NORTH. 

THE  coast  of  Finland  stretches  due  north 
until,  a  few  miles  south  of  Wasa,  at  about 
the  sixty-third  degree  of  latitude,  it  makes  a  de- 
cided curve  toward  the  north-east.  The  great  blue 
Bothiiian  Gulf  follows  the  same  direction,  narrow- 
ing for  a  moment  in  the  Qvark,  then  widening 
again,  and  leaning  its  high  brow  against  Finland's 
breast.  With  greater  freedom  than  elsewhere,  the 
winds  from  the  Arctic  Ocean  sweep  against  these 
coasts,  driving  between  the  islands,  and  beating 
the  Waves  with  terrible  violence  against  the  rocks. 
In  the  midst  of  this  stormy  sea  lie  Gadden's  bare 
flat  ledges,  with  their  warning  light-house  and 
their  far-projecting  reefs.  When  the  mountain 
vpinds  shake  their  wings  over  these  dangerous 
breakers,  then  woe  unto  the  vessel  which,  without 
a  sure  rudder  and  tig-htlv  furled  sails,  ventures 
through  the  narrow  passage  at  Understen:  its 
destruction  is  certain.  But  in  mid-summer  it 
frequently  happens  that  a  light  northern  wind  is 
the  most  welcome,  promising  clear  skies  with  fine 
weather.  Then  fly  the  many  hundred  sails  from 
the  coasts  out  toward  Qvark's  islands  and  reefs; 
the  nets  are  cast  for  shoals  of  herring;  and  the 
restless,  murmurinor  sea  frolics  like  a  loving  motlier 
with  her  daughters,  the  verdant  islands,  nestling  at 
her  bosom. 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         159 


With  the  exception  of  Aland,  no  part  of  Fin- 
land's wide  coast  is  so  rich  with  luxuriant  islands 
as  Qvark  and  its  neisj^hboring  east  shore.  These 
innumerable  islets  and  liolins,  of  which  the  largest 
are  Wallgrund  and  Bjorko,  are  here  sprinkled 
about,  like  drops  of  green  in  the  blue  expanse,  and 
form  a  peculiar  collection — Replot  parish — inhab- 
ited only  by  fishermen.  So  numerous  are  these 
groups,  so  infinitely  varied  the  sounds,  so  labyrin- 
thine the  channels,  that  in  the  Michel  islands,  a 
group  consisting  of  several  hundred,  a  strange  ves- 
sel could  not  find  its  way  out  unless  a  native  pilot 
was  at  the  helm.  Thirty  cruisers  would  here  be 
insufficient  to  prevent  smuggling;  there  is  only  one 
means  of  putting  a  stop  to  this  hereditary  sin  of  the 
coast,  and  this  means — a  light  tariff  with. few  pro- 
hibitions— Finland,  during  late  years,  has  tried 
with  success  and  great  advantage. 

At  the  period  described  in  the  preceding  chap- 
ter (the  middle  of  August,  1G32),  the  waters  of  the 
Baltic  were  plowed  by  the  royal  Swedish  war-brig, 
"  Maria  Eleonora,"  bound  from  Stockholm  to  Wasa, 
to  transport  the  recruits  conscripted  in  PJast  Both- 
nia for  the  German  war.  It  was  a  clear  and  beau- 
tiful summer  morning.  Over  tlie  wide  sea  played 
that  indescribable  glitter  which  has  something  at 
once  so  grand  and  so  enchantingly  beautiful.  A 
boundless  field  of  snow,  illumined  by  the  spring 
sun,  can  rival  it  in  splendor  ;  but  the  snow  is  still- 
ness and  death,  the  shimmering  wave  motion  and 
life.  A  sea  at  rest  in  its  resplendence  is  grandeur 
clothed  in  the  smile  of  delight;  it  is  a  slumbering 
giant  who  dreams  of  sunbeams  and  flowers.  Gent- 
ly heaves  his  breast;  then  the  plank  rocks  under 
thy  feet  and  thou  treniblest  not;  he  could  swallow 
thee  up  in  his  abyss,  but  he  mildly  spreads  his  sil- 


160  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

ver  carpet  under  the  keel,  and  he,  the  strong  one, 
bears  the  frail  bark  like  a  child  in  his  arms. 

It  was  immediately  after  sunrise.  On  board 
the  vessel  there  prevailed  the  monotonous  silence  of 
sea  life  during  the  morning  watch,  when  no  danger 
is  apprehended.  A  part  of  the  crew  were  still 
asleep  below  deck;  only  the  mate,  wrapped  in  a 
jacket  of  Dutch  frieze,  promenaded  back  and  forth 
on  the  aft  deck.  The  helmsman  stood  motionless 
at  the  rudder,  the  man  at  the  round-  top  peered 
no'selessly  ahead,  and  here  and  there  on  the  for- 
ward deck  were  seen  sailors,  now  fastening  a  loose 
rope  end,  now  mending  a  pair  of  boots,  now  carry- 
ing wood  to  the  galley,  now  polishing  the  cannon 
which  were  to  salute  Korsholm  when  they  entered 
port. 

The  stern  discipline  of  a  modern  man-of-war 
was  at  that  time  almost  unknown.  There  were 
neither  uniforms  nor  whistles,  nor  aught  of  that 
system  of  signals  and  commands  which  is  now  car- 
ried to  such  perfection.  A  man-of-war  scarcely 
differed  from  a  merchant  vessel  except  in  size, 
armament,  and  the  number  of  the  officers  and  crew. 
When  one  remembers  that  at  that  time  tliere  were 
neither  whiskey  nor  coffee  on  board  as  a  solace 
against  the  chill  morning  air — (they  had,  however, 
already  learned  from  the  Dutch  to  use  an  occasion- 
al quid  of  tobacco  for  this  purpose) — then  it  is  readi- 
ly seen  that  sea  life  on  the  "■  Maria  Eleonora"  bore 
very  little  resemblance  to  that  on  one  of  our  mod- 
ern men-of-war. 

Bv  the  arreen  a:unwale  of  the  deck  stood  two  fe- 
male  figures,  wrapped  in  ample  travelling  hoods  of 
black  wool.  One  of  these  passengers  was  small  in 
stature,  and  showed  under  the  hood  an  old  wrink- 
led face,  with  a  pair  of  blinking  gray  eyes;  she  had 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         161 

bundled  herself  up  in  a  thick  wadded  cloak  of  Nu- 
rembero;  cloth.  The  other  figure  was  tall  and  slen- 
der,  and  wore  a  tight-fitting  capote  of  black  velvet 
lined  with  ermine.  Leaning  against  the  gunwale, 
she  regarded  with  gloomy  thoughtfulness  the  re- 
ceding waves  and  the  vessel's  glistening  wake. 
Her  features  could  not  be  seen  from  the  deck;  but 
if  one  could  have  caug-ht  her  imag^e  in  the  mirror- 
ing  wave,  it  would  have  revealed  a  classically  beau- 
tiful face,  irradiated  by  two  black  eyes_  which  in 
lustre  surpassed  the  shining  w^ave-mirror  itself. 

"  Holy  Mary  !"  exclaimed  the  old  woman  vol- 
ubly, in  strongly  accented  Low-German.  "  When 
will  all  this  misery,  which  the  saints  have  imposed 
upon  us  on  account  of  our  sins,  come  to  an  end  ? 
Tell  me,  little  lady,  in  what  part  of  the  world  are 
we  now  ?  It  seems  to  me  as  if  it  were  a  whole 
year  since  we  sailed  from  Stralsund,  for  since  we 
left  the  heretic  Stockholm  I  have  no  longer  kept  an 
account  of  the  days.  Every  morning  when  I  arise 
I  recite  seven  aves  and  seven  joa^er  nosters^  which 
the  reverend  Father  Hierony  mus  taught  us  as  a  pro- 
tection against  ghosts  and  evil  witchcrafts.  Who 
knows  but  that  the  world  here  comes  to  an  end, 
when  we  have  reached  so  far  from  the  domain  of 
the  holy  true  believing  church  and  Christian  peo- 
ple! This  sea  has  no  limit — oh  the  horrible  sea  !  I 
now  appreciate  the  river  Main  which  flowed  so 
peacefully  beneath  our  little  turret  window  in 
WUrtzburg.  Say,  little  lady,  what  if  over  there 
at  the  horizon  was  the  end  of  the  earth  and  we 
should  go  with  full  sails  right  into  purgatory  ?" 

The  tall,  slender  young  girl  in  the  velvet  capote 
did  not  seem  to  listen  to  the  loquacious  duenna's  ef- 
fusive words.  Her  dark,  brilliant  eyes,  under  their 
long  black  lashes,  rested  pensively  on  the  sea  as  if 
L  7* 


162  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

to  read  in  its  waves  the  interpretation  of  her  heart's 
dreams.  And  when  at  times  a  1  on o^  swell  from  for- 
mer  storms  rolled  under  the  little  waves,  and  the 
ship  gently  careened,  so  that  the  guard  neared  the 
water  and  the  mirrored  image  in  the  sea  approach- 
ed the  orirl  on  board,  then  a  smile  of  minarled  mel- 
anchol}-  and  pride  passed  over  the  beautiful  pale 
features,  and  her  lips  moved  almost  inaudibly  to 
confide  her  innermost  thouglits  to  the  wave  : 

"  It  is  only  the  great  and  majestic  in  life  that 
deserve  to  be  loved  /" 

Then  she  added,  transported  by  this  thought  : 

"  Why  should  not  I  love  a  great  man  ?" 

And  s-he  whispered  these  words  with  an  un- 
bounded enthusiasm.  But  instantly  a  shudder  ran 
through  her  delicate  frame,  a  dark  flash  shot  throuo;h 
the  glimmering  enamel  of  her  black  eyes,  and  she 
uttered,  almost  trembling  : 

"  Jt  is  only  the  great  and  majestic  in  life  that 
deserve  to  be  hated  !  .  .  .  Why  should  I  not 
hate     .     .      ." 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence;  she  bent  her 
head  against  the  guard;  the  flash  in  her  eyes  dis-: 
appeared,  leaving  in  its  stead  a  moist  tear.  Two 
hostile  spirits  contended  for  this  passionate  soul. 
One  said  to  her:  "■LoveP''  the  other:  ''Hate!  "  And 
her  heart  bled  under  the  terrible  struo;-a:le  between 
the  angel  and  the  demon. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  mention,  what  the  reader 
has  probably  already  divined,  that  the  slender 
young  girl  on  board  the  "  Maria  Eleonora "  was 
none  other  than  Lady  Regina  von  Emmeritz,  the 
beautiful  fanatic  who  in  Frankfort-on-the-Main 
tried  to  convert  Gustaf  Adolf  to  the  Catholic 
faith.  The  king,  who  knew  the  human  heart,  had 
not  without  reason   considered   this   fanatical   girl 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         163 

capable  of  anything  if  longer  left  a  prey  to  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Jesuits.  He  had  therefore,  not  from 
revenge,  which  was  foreign  to  his  great  soul,  but 
from  noble  compassion  for  a  young  and  richly  en- 
dowed nature,  resolved  to  send  her  for  a  time  to  a 
distant  land,  where  she  could  no  longer  be  reached 
by  the  influence  of  gloomy  monks. 

The  reader  will  remember  that  the  king  ex- 
pressed this  intention  on  the  memorable  night 
after  the  festival  of  the  Frankfort  burghers;  -and 
later  in  the  summer  Lady  Regfina  was  sent,  by  the 
way  of  Stralsund  and  Stockholm,  to  the  stern  old 
Lady  Martha  Ulfsparre,  at  Korsholm.  The  noble 
king  did  not  suspect  that  the  demoniacal  power 
from  whose  claws  he  wished  to  save  his  beautiful 
prisoner  followed  her  even  to  Finland's  remote 
shores;  for  Lady  Regina  had  been  allowed  to  choose 
for  her  companion  the  one  of  her  waiting-women  in 
whom  she  felt  the  most  confidence,  and  she  chose, 
not  the  light-hearted  blonde  Kiitchen,  her  good 
genius,  who  was  sent  away  to  her  home  in  Bavaria, 
but  the  old  Dorthe,  her  nurse,  who,  secretly  in  the 
service  of  the  Jesuits,  had  long  nourished  the  fire 
of  fanaticism  in  the  young  girl's  soul.  Thus  the 
poor  unprotected  girl  was  given  up  to  the  dark 
power  which,  ever  since  her  earliest  childhood,  had 
perverted  her  rich  and  sensitive  heart  with  its 
dreadful  teachings.  And  against  this  power  she 
could  only  oppose  a  single  but  powerful  feeling  — 
her  admiration,  her  fanatical  love  for  Gustaf  Adolf, 
whom  she  loved  and  hated  at  the  same  time,  whom 
she  would  have  been  able  to  kill,  and  yet  for  whom 
she  would  herself  have  sufi'ered  death. 

The  shrewd  Dorthe  seemed  to  guess  her  mis- 
tress's thoughts;  she  leaned  forward,  winked  with 


164  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

her  small  eyes,  and  said,  in  the  familiar  tone  which 
a  subordinate  in  her  position  so  easily  assumes: 

"Oh  ho!  Is  that  the  way  it  stands?  Do  they 
again  come  up,  the  sinful  thoughts  about  the  here- 
tic king  and  all  his  followers?  Yes,  yes,  the  devil 
is  cunning;  he  knows  what  he  is  about.  When  he 
wishes  to  catch  a  little  frivolous  girl  of  the  common 
sort,  he  places  before  her  eyes  a  young  blooming 
dandy  with  long  and  well-curled  locks  and  cavalier 
appearance.  When  he  wishes  to  entangle  a  poor 
forsaken  girl  with  great  proud  thoughts  and  noble 
aspirations,  then  he  clothes  himself  in  the  form  of 
a  magnificent  victor,  who  gains  castles  and  battles; 
and  little  does  the  poor  child  care  that  the  fine 
conqueror  is  a  sworn  enemy  to  her  church  and 
faith,  and  is  working  for  the  ruin  of  both." 

Regina  turned  her  tearful  and  glistening  eyes 
away  from  the  sea,  and  looked  for  a  moment  with 
distrust  at  the  old  counsellor. 

"  Say,"  said  she,  almost  violently,  "  is  it  possible 
to  be  at  once  an  angel  of  magnanimity  and  a  mon- 
ster of  wickedness?  Is  it  possible  to  be  at  once 
the  greatest  and  the  most  despicable  of  human  be- 
ings?" 

Reo-ina  as^ain  looked  toward  the  sea.  The 
peaceful  tranquillity  of  the  morning  rested  on  the 
glittering  waters,  and  stilled  the  tempest  within 
her.  The  young  girl  remained  silent.  Dorthe 
continued: 

"  '  By  their  fruits  shall  ye  know  them.'  Think, 
what  evil  has  not  the  godless  king  done  our  church 
and  us?  He  has  slain  many  thousands  of  our 
warriors;  he  has  plundered  our  cloisters  and 
castles;  he  has  driven  out  our  nuns  and  holy 
fathers  from  their  godly  habitations,  and  the  de- 
vout father  Hieronymus  has  been  frightfully  abused 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         165 


by  his  people,  the  heretic  Finns.    Us  he  has  driven 

away  in  exile  to  the  ends  of  the  earth " 

Again  Regina  looked  over  at  the  islands  and  the 
inlets,  bathed  in  their  mild  morning  glory.  '  When 
the  dark  demon  whispered  hatred  in  her  ears,  ra- 
diant nature  seemed  to  preach  only  love.  On  her 
lips  hovered  the  transporting  thought:  "  What 
matters  it  if  he  has  slain  thousands,  if  he  has 
driven  out  monks  and  nuns,  if  he  has  driven  us, 
ourselves,  into  exile;  what  matters  all  this,  if  he  is 
great  as  a  man,  and  acts  according  to  the  dictates 
of  his  faith?"  But  she  kept  silent  from  fear;  she 
dared  not  break  with  all  her  preceding  life.  She 
caught  up,  instead,  one  of  Dorthe's  words,  as  if  to 
dispel  the  cloud  of  hatred  and  malediction  which, 
with  its  dark  mist,  enveloped  her  heart  in  the  midst 
of  this  peaceful  and  lovely  picture  of  a  sea  in  the 
fresh  splendor  of  a  summer  morning. 

"  Do  you  know,  Dorthe,"  said  she,  "  that  the 
Finns  whom  you  hate  live  on  the  coast  of  this  sea? 
Do  you  see  the  strip  of  land  over  there  in  the  east? 
It  is  Finland.  1  have  not  yet  seen  its  shores,  and 
yet  I  cannot  detest  a  country  which  is  bathed  by 
so  glorious  a  sea.  I  cannot  think  that  evil  people 
can  grow  up  in  the  heart  of  such  a  nature." 

"  All  saints  protect  us  !"  exclaimed  the  old 
woman,  while  her  lean  hand  hastily  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross.  "Is  that  Finland?  Saint  Patrick 
preserve  us  from  ever  setting  foot  on  its  cursed 
soil  !  Dear  lady,  you  have,  then,  never  heard  what 
is  said  of  this  land  and  its  heathen  people  ?  There 
an  eternal  night  prevails;  there  the  snow  never 
melts;  there  the  wild  beasts  and  the  still  wilder  hu- 
man beings  lie  together,  like  brothers  and  sisters, 
in  dens  and  caves.  The  woods  are  so  filled  with 
hobgoblins  and  imps  that  when  one  of  them  is  called 


166  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

by  name  a  hundred  monsters  immediately  creep 
forth  from  the  leaves  and  branches.  And  people 
bewitch  each  other  with  all  kinds  of  evils,  chaiia:- 
ing  their  enemy  into  a  wolf;  and  every  word  they 
speak  becomes  real,  so  that  when  they  wish  to  make 
a  boat  or  an  axe,  they  say  the  word  and  directly 
they  have  what  they  utter." 

"  That  is  a  pretty  picture  which  you  draw,"  said 
Regina,  smiling  for  the  first  time  in  many  weeks, 
for  the  freshness  of  the  sea  had  a  good  influence  on 
her  dream}'-  soul.  "Happy  is  the  land  where  peo- 
ple can  create  whatever  they  wish  for  with  a 
single  word.  If  I  am  hungry  and  desire  beautiful 
fruit,  I  have  but  to  say,  peach  I  and  right  away  I 
have  it.  If  I  feel  thirsty,  I  say,  spring  I  and  in- 
stantly a  spring  gurgles  at  my  feet.  If  I  have  sor- 
row in  my  heart,  1  say,  hope  I  and  hope  returns; 
and  if  I  long  for  a  beloved  friend,  I  mention  his 
name,  and  he  stands  at  my  side.  A  glorious  land 
is  Finland,  were  it  such  as  you  represent  it  to  me. 
Even  if  we  lived  with  wild  beasts  in  a  cave,  under 
the  eternal  snow,  we  would  look  at  each  other  and 
say.  Fatherland !  and  at  the  same  moment  we 
would  sit  hand-iii-hand  on  the  banks  of  the  Main, 
beneath  the  shadow  of  the  lindens,  where  we  often 
satwhen  I  was  a  child,  and  the  ni2:htin2:ales  of  our 
native  land  would  sing  blithely  for  us  as  before." 
Dorthe  turned  angrily  away.  The  vessel  now 
steered  its  coarse  between  the  rocks  and  islands, 
moved  with  gentle  speed  past  the  outermost  reefs, 
of  which  many  that  now  stand  high  above  the  sur- 
face of  the  water  were  at  that  time  washed  by  the 
briny  wave. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  long  richly-wooded 
stretch  of  land  to  the  left  ?"  asked  Regina  of  the 
helmsman,  standing  near. 


THE   SWORD  AND   THE   PLOUGH.         167 

"  Wolf's  Island,"  answered  the  man. 
"  There  you  hear  it  yourself,  dear  lady,"  exclaim- 
ed Dorthe.      "Wolf's  Island!     That   is  the   first 
name  we  hear  on  Finland's  coast,  and   that    shows 
us  what  we  hav^e  to  expect." 

The  vessel  now  turned  to  the  north,  sailed  be- 
tween Liingskar  and  Sundomland,  again  veered 
off  toward  the  east,  passed  Brando,  went  smoothly 
over  the  shoals  which  now  exclude  large  vessels 
from  these  waters,  into  Wasa's  then  superb  harbor, 
and  saluted  with  sixteen  cannon-shots  the  ramparts 
of  Korsholm. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

PEASANT,  BURGHEE,  AND    SOLDIER. 

IT  was  decided,  as  a  mark  of  re-established 
friendship  between  father  and  daughter,  that 
when  Aaron  Bertila  should  seat  himself  in  his 
handsome  cart,  for  a  dav's  travel  to  Wasa,  Meri 
should  take  a  seat  by  his  side,  in  order  that  she 
might  purchase,  in  town,  herrings,  hops,  and  a  few 
spices,  such  as  ginger  and  cinnamon,  which  were 
already  making  their  appearance  in  the  houses  of 
the  wealthier  peasants.  Both  father  and  daughter 
had  their  own  plans  concerning  that  journey;  but 
neither  wished  to  acknowledge  to  the  other  that  it 
was  news  from  Germany  that  each  especially 
sought.  Larsson  had  in  the  meantime  been  charged 
with  the  general  supervision  over  the  work  at  home. 
It  was  just  at  the  time  when  Gustaf  Adolf  and 
Wallenstein  stood  opposite  each  other  at  Nurem- 
berg. Soldiers  were  needed  more  than  ever,, and 
Oxenstjerna  wrote  letter  after  letter  from.  Saxony, 


168  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

to  hasten  the  arrival  of  additional  reinforcements. 
Notwithstanding  the  height  of  the  harvest  season, 
the  war,  which  was  also  in  the  heio-ht  of  its  har- 
vesting,  caused  a  great  number  of  the  conscripts 
from  the  neiafhborina;'  villas-es  to  stream  down  to 
Wasa,  from  thence  to  be  transported  to  Stockholm, 
and  so  on  to  meet  Wallenstein's  threatening  hosts 
in  Germany. 

At  that  time  the  military  drill  was  not  nearly  so 
complicated  and  difficult  as  now:  to  stand  passably 
well  in  the  ranks,  to  rush  straight  upon  the  enemy 
at  the  first  command,  to  aim  surely  (as  the  East 
Bothnians  had  learned  to  do  in  the  seal-hunts),  and 
to  hew  down  manfully, —  these  were  the  chief 
things.  And  thus  one  can  understand  that  many 
of  these  peasant  boys,  just  taken  from  the  plough, 
had  sufficient  time  to  fall  with  honor  at  the  side  of 
their  king  on  the  battle-field  of  Liitzen. 

The  town  of  Wasa  was  then  only  twenty  years 
old,  and  much  smaller  in  extent  than  now,  not 
merely  on  account  of  its  youth,  but  also  because 
Korsholm  fields,  which  belonged  to  the  crown,  hin- 
dered all  extension  on  the  south  side.  Around  the 
old  Mustasaari  church,  on  the  northern  extremity 
of  KOpman  and  Stora  streets,  were  a  few  compact 
rows  of  newly-built  one-story  houses,  painted  red, 
with  six  or  eight  insignificant  shops.  Along  the 
quays  stood  store-houses,  and  the  neighborhood 
around  was  filled  with  fishermen's  and  sailors' 
huts  in  scattered  groups — for  regular  plans  and 
straight  streets  were  considered  by  the  architects 
of  the  sixteenth  century  rather  superfluous,  and  the 
closer  people  built  their  houses  together  the  safer 
they  considered  themselves  in  unquiet  times. 

A  borough,  as  Wasa  then  was,  regarded  itself 
as  one  common  family;  and  as  a  compensation  for 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         1G9 

the  insignificance  of  their  own  dwellings,  the  in- 
habitants looked  with  a  sort  of  pride  on  the  high 
green  ramparts  of  Korsholm,  near  them  on  the  south. 

The  long-credited  story,  confirmed  by  Mes- 
senius,  that  Korsholm  had  been  built  by  Earl 
Birger  and  received  its  name  from  a  large  wooden 
cross  which  was  there  raised  both  as  a  religious 
symbol,  a  sign  of  victory,  and  a  refuge,  was  founded 
on  the  equally  old  tradition  that  the  celebrated  earl, 
on  his  expedition  to  Finland,  landed  upon  this  very 
coast.  Later  researches  have  thrown  doubt  upon 
this  story  and  Korsholm's  origin  at  the  same  time; 
but  certain  it  is,  that  the  fortress  is  very  old,  nay, 
so  old  that  it  is  scarcely  remembered,  save  as  the 
remains  of  somethino-  more  ancient.  It  is  a  fact 
that  it  has  never,  so  far  as  is  known,  offered  resis- 
tance to  an  enemy;  its  situation  made  it  unimpor- 
tant to  Finland's  defence;  and  since  Ulea  and 
Kajana  castles  were  erected,  shortly  before  the 
time  of  our  story,  it  had  ceased  to  be  regarded  as 
a  military  post.  Its  principal  use  was  now  partly 
to  afford  a  residence  for  the  governor  of  the 
northern  districts,  partly  to  lodge  other  crown 
officials,  to  serve  as  a  prison,  and,  together  with  its 
appanage  of  land,  to  yield  a  nice  income  for  the  sup- 
port of  the  governor.  The  governor  of  the  north- 
ern part  of  Finland,  Johan  Mansson  Ulfsparre  of 
Tusenhult,  who  was  soon  after  succeeded  by 
Colonel  Ernst  Creutz  of  Sarvelax,  lived  only  by 
intervals  at  Korsholm;  yet  it  is  said  that  his  seven- 
ty-year old  mother.  Lady  Martha,  ruled  with  a  stern 
hand  over  both  castle  and  estate  during  his  absence. 

Between  the  peasants  and  the  burghers  of   the 

new  towns  there  prevailed  at  that  time  an  unnatural 

and  injurious  rivalry,  originating  in  the  efi"orts  of 

the  government  to  suppress  the  country  trade  for 

8 


170  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

the  advantage  of  the  towns,  and,  in  a  singularly 
narrow-minded  way,  i-egulate  tlie  exchange  of  pro- 
duce. Therefore,  when  the  old  and  powerful  peas- 
ant chief,  with  his  daughter,  drove  in  through  the 
country  toll-gate  from  the  I^illkyro  side,  a  few  of 
the  citizens  nodded  a  greeting  to  the  well-known 
old  man  for  the  sake  of  his  wealth;  but  the  more 
haughty  among  the  merchants,  who  feared  Bertila's 
personal  influence  with  the  king,  looked  at  him  with 
unfriendly  eyes,  and  gave  vent  to  their  ill-feeling 
in  mocking  words,  uttered  loudly  enough  to  reach 
the  old  man's  ears. 

"There  comes  the  Storkyro  peasant-king!  "  said 
they;  "and  Wasa  hasn't  prepared  any  triumphal 
arch!  He  thinks  himself  too  good  to  thresh  in  the 
barn;  he  means  to  enter  the  army  and  become 
generalissimo  at  once.  Take  care!  Do  you  not 
see  how  ungracious  he  looks,  his  cabin  majesty! 
if  he  could  have  his  way,  he  would  plough  up  all 
Wasa  into  a  grain-field  !  " 

With  the  hot-blooded  Bertila,  anger  was  seldom 
far  oiF;  but  he  concealed  his  resentment,  and  urged 
forward  the  horse,  that  he  might  soon  arrive  at  the 
house  of  the  sailor's  widow  where  he  generally 
stayed  when  in  town.  He  had  not  gone  far,  how- 
ever, on  Kopman  street — which  in  our  time  is  not 
one  of  the  broadest,  but  was  then  extremely  narrow 
— before  it  was  blocked  up  by  a  crowd  of  drunken 
recruits,  who,  in  an  ale-house  near  by,  had  inaugur- 
ated their  new  comradeship  and  strengthened  them- 
selves for  the  long  journey  in  prospect.  Two 
under-officers  had  joined  the  crowd  as  its  self  con- 
stituted leaders,  and  rushed,  with  a  bold,  "Out  of 
the  way,  peasant!  "  toward  the  new-comer. 

Bertila,  already  irritated  and  unable  to  restrain 
his  anger,  answered  the  shout  with  a  rather   un- 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         171 


gentle  cut  of  the  whip,  which  knocked  off  the 
speaker's  broad-bri  mined  hat  with  its  eagle 
feather.  Then  the  fray  begun.  The  man 
ru>hed  upon  the  peasant's  cart,  and  the  whole 
crowd   followed   him. 

"Aha,  old  fellow!"  exclaimed' the  merry  ser- 
geant, Bengt  Kristerson,  whom  Bertila  had  so  ig- 
nominiously  thrust  out  of  doors  in  Storkyro;  "now, 
we  have  you  here  at  our  mercy,  and  1  shall  thank 
you  for  your  gracious  treatment  yesterday.  Make 
room,  boys;  the  old  fellow  is  mine;  that  codfish  I 
mean  to  scale  myself." 

Bertila  was  too  old  to  depend  further  on  the 
strength  of  his  fist,  and  looked  around  for  a  place 
of  retreat.  Armed  with  the  whip,  he  jumped  from 
the  cart,- which  had  stopped  close  by  the  steps  of 
the  shop,  and  gave  the  horse  a  cut,  so  that  the 
latter,  with  the  cart  and  the  daughter,  cleared  its 
way  through  the  yielding  throng  and  galloped  up 
the  street.  But  if  Bertila  had  intended  to  seek  a 
refuge  in  the  shop,  he  was  disappointed,  for  the 
door  was  shut  in  his  face  by  the  inhospitable 
owner.  The  old  champion,  seeing  escape  cut  off, 
placed  himself  with  his  back  against  the  shop-door 
und  threatened  the  assailants  with   his  long  whip. 

"  Let  us  thrash  the  proud  Storkyro  peasant!" 
screamed  a  young  Laihela  boy,  who,  during  the 
one  week  that  he  had  carried  a  musket,  had  been 
able  to  forget  his  peasant  name,  but  not  his  peas- 
ant language. 

"Your  father  was  a  better  man,  Matts  Hin- 
drikson,"  said  Bertila,  with  contempt.  "Instead 
of  ranting  against  his  own  people,  he  helped  us, 
like  an  honest  peasant,  to  pommel  Peter  Gumse's 
cavalry  in  former  days." 

"Do  you  hear,  boys?"  cried  one  of  the  subal- 


172  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

terns,  "  the  dog  brags  of  having  given  brave  sol- 
diers a  thrashing!  " 

"We  will  not  allow  any  one  to  tyrannize  over 
us!" 

"The  peasant  shall  dance  after  our  whip!" 

"And  not  we  after  his!  " 

And  five  or  six  of  the  most  excited  of  the  sol- 
diers, who  had  lately  worn  the  peasant  jacket 
themselves,  rushed  to  pull  Bertila  down  from  the 
steps.  The  old  man  would  have  been  lost,  had  not 
his  adversary  of  the  day  before,  the  jolly  sergeant, 
thrown  himself  between  him  and  the  aggressors. 

"Hold  on,  boys!"  cried  Bengt  Kristerson,  in 
thundering  tones.  "What  the  devil  are  you  think- 
ing of '?  Are  you  honest  soldiers?  Do  you  not  see 
that  the  old  man  is  seventy  years  of  age — and  yet 
you  go  six  against  one?  Ijlitz-donner-ICreutz- 
Pappenheim  [the  sergeant  had  learned  this  potent 
oath,  which  never  failed  of  its  effect,  in  the  proper 
school],  is  that  war-like?  What  do  you  suppose 
the  king  would  say  about  it?  Out  of  the  way, 
boys;  the  old  man  is  mine;  I  alone  have  the  right 
to  wash  him  clean.  You  should  have  seen  how  he 
lifted  me  yesterday  like  an  old  glove  and  threw  me 
down  the  steps.  It  was  a  manly  stroke,  and  now 
it  has  to  be  repaid." 

Courage  and  magnanimity  seldom  fail  of  their 
impression.  Those  standing  nearest  willingly  gave 
way.  The  sergeant  advanced  to  the  steps.  Bertila 
could  have  reached  him  with  the  whip,  but  he  did 
not  strike.     He  knew  his  people. 

"Do  you  know  what  it  means,  peasant?"  cried 
the  sergeant,  with  an  air  of  authority  which  would 
have  become  General  Stalhandske  himself,  "do  you 
know  what  it  means  to  throw  his  royal  majesty's 
soldier  down  the  steps?      Do  you   know   what  it 


THE    SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.        173 

means  to  knock  off  the  hat  of  the  defender  of  the 
evangelical  faith  and  the  conqueror  of  the  power- 
ful Roman  emperor,  who  with  his  own  hand  has 
gained  fourteen  battles  and  run  his  sword  through 
sixteen  or  seventeen  living  generals?  Do  you 
know,  peasant,  if  I  were  in  your  place    ..." 

"  If  I  were  in  the  place  of  his  royal  majesty's 
soldier,"  answered  Bertila,  coolly,  "  I  would  respect 
an  honest  man  in  his  own  house  and  a  grandsire  in 
his  old  age.  And  if  I  were  Bengt  Kristerson,  if  I 
had  conquered  the  Roman  emperor  and  run  my 
sword  through  seventeen  living  generals,  I  would 
still  not  forget  that  Bengt  Kristerson's  father, 
Krister  Nilson,  was  a  peasant  in  Limingo,  and 
fell  on  Ilmola  ice  like  an  honest  fighter  against 
Fleming's  tyranny." 

The  sergeant  for  a  moment  seemed  dumb- 
founded. Then  he  stepped  close  up  to  his  ad- 
versary, and  said,  with  a  grim  aspect: 

"  Do  you  know,  peasant,  that  I  could  impale 
you  on  this?"  and  so  saying  he  drew  his  frightful 
long  sword  half-way  out  of  the  scabbard. 

Bertila  looked  at  him  coldly,  with  crossed  arms. 

"Are  you  not  afraid,  old  fellow?"  resumed  the 
conqueror  of  the  Roman  empire,  evidently  discom- 
posed by  the  peasant's  firm  attitude. 

Bertila  felt  his  advantage. 

"  When  did  you  ever  see  an  honest  Finn 
afraid?"  said  the  old  man,  almost  smiling. 

The  sergeant  was  not  a  vicious  man.  He  felt 
suddenly  inclined  to  magnanimity;  his  fierce  mien 
changed  into  the  blustering  and  jovial  air  which 
became  him  so  well. 

"  Do  you  know,  boys,"  said  he,  with  a  glance  at 
his  comrades,  "  that  the  old  ox  has  both  horns  and 
hoofs?     He  might  have  become  something  in  the 


174  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

world  if  he  had  been  among  cavaliers.  Yesterday, 
when  they  were  fourteen  against  one  —  for  you 
must  know,  boys,  that  all  fourteen  of  the  laborers 
helped  to  lift  me  on  the  clodhopper's  back,  and 
then  every  one  had  marks  from  it  —  yes,  as  1  say, 
yesterday  I  would  have  beaten  the  old  fellow 
black  and  blue,  had  it  not  been  for  the  presence 
of  women  who  sat  with  us  at  table.  But  to-day 
we  are  fifteen  against  one;  and  so  I  propose  that 
we  let  the  old  man  go." 

"He  is  as  rich  as  Beelzebub,"  cried  some  of 
the  crowd;  "he  shall  treat  us  to  a  keg  of  ale." 

Bertila  drew  out  a  little  leather  purse,  took 
some  of  Carl  IX.'s  silver  coins,  and  threw  them 
contemptuously  among  the  rabble.  This  irritated 
the  soldiers  anew;  several  arms  were  raised,  and 
the  storm  threatened  to  burst  forth  again,  when 
suddenly  the  whole  crowd  turned  and  rushed  down 
to  the  harbor.  Cannon-shots  were  heard;  it  was  the 
brig  "  Maria  Eleonora,"  which  saluted  Korsholm. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE    ARRIVAL    AT    KORSHOLM. 

EVERYBODY  in  Wasa  who  had  life  and  feet 
had  gone  down  to  the  harbor  to  enjoy  the 
uncommon  spectacle  of  a  man-of-war.  Five  or  six 
hundred  people  lined  the  shore,  rowed  out  in  boats, 
or  climbed  the  masts  of  the  vachts  or  the  roofs  of 
the  store-houses  to  get  a  better  view.  Two  hun- 
dred recruits  regarded  with  mingled  curiosity,  fear, 
and  pride,  the  vessel  which  was  to  take  them  from 
their  fatherland,  perhaps  forever;  and  behind  them 


THE    SWORD   AND    THE  PLOUGH.         175 

stood  a  large  group  of  mothers,  sisters,  and  sweet- 
hearts, shedding  bitter  tears  at  the  thought  of  the 
approaching  separation. 

The  governor,  Ulfsparre,  was  away  in  Sweden. 
His  lieutenant,  Steward  Peder  Thun,  with  his  gar- 
rison, received  the  new-comers;  the  recruits  formed 
a  row  on  both  sides,  and  the  captain  of  the  "  Maria 
Eleonora  "  offered  his  arm  politely  to  Lady  Regina, 
to  escort  her  to  Korsholm.  But  at  this  moment 
the  proud  young  girl  remembered  that  she  was  a 
prisoner;  she  refused  the  officer's  arm,  and  walked 
alone,  with  a  princely  bearing,  followed  by  her  old 
serva'nt,  through  the  ranks  of  the  recruits  and  the 
staring  crowd. 

Such  an  unusual  sight  put  all  Wasa  in  a  terri- 
ble state  of  curiosity.  In  an  instant  there  arose 
and  spread  the  strangest  reports  about  her. 

"She  is  a  princess  of  Austria,"  said  some;  "the 
emperor's  daughter,  taken  prisoner  during  the  war, 
and  sent  here  for  safety."  Others  pretended  to 
recognize  in  her  the  Queen  Maria  Eleonora;  but 
why  did  she  come  to  Korsholm? 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  whispered  a  tinker,  with  an 
important  air.  "She  is  in  league  with  her  German 
countrvmen  against  the  king  and  the  country,  and 
therefore  she  is  to  be  imprisoned  in  this  remote 
and  secure  fortress  of  Korsholm." 

"That  is  not  true,"  rejoined  another,  who  had 
received  from  returning  soldiers  a  vague  idea  of 
the  conspiracies  against  the  king's  life.  "It  is," 
added  he,  with  a  shy  voice,  as  if  fearing  to  be 
heard  by  the  object  of  his  story,  "  it  is  a  nun  from 
Walskland,  hired  by  the  Jesuits  to  make  away 
with  the  king.  Six  times  has  she  given  him 
deadly  poison,  and  six  times  has  he  been  warned 
in  dreams  not  to  drink.      When  for  the  seventh 


176  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

time  she  offered  him  the  draught,  the  king  drew  his 
sword  and  forced  her  to  swallow  her  own  poison." 

"But  how  can  she  then  be  here  alive?"  re- 
marked an  elderly  lady,  innocently. 

"Alive?"  repeated  the  story-teller,  without 
being  disconcerted.  "Oh,  that  is  a  question. 
Those  creatures  can  dissemble  wonderfully.  .  .  . 
Yes,  indeed,  do  you  remember  the  Dutchman  last 
year  who  swallowed  melted  lead  ?  I  do  not  wish 
to  say  too  much  —  but  just  look!  The  black-haired 
nun  is  as  pale  as  a  corpse!  " 

"  Has  she  given  the  king  poison?"  exclaimed  a 
trembling  female  voice  close  by.  It  was  Meri, 
who,  with  bated  breath,  drank  every  word. 

"What  nonsense!"  replied  a  sea-captain,  with 
the  air  of  knowing  more  than  all  the  rest.  "  When 
I  was  in  Stralsund  last  spring,  I  saw  those  same 
eyes,  which  one  cannot  easily  forget.  The  girl 
was  then  brought  to  Stockholm,  and  one  of  the 
guards  told  me  the  whole  story.  She  is  a  Spanish 
witch,  who  has  sold  herself  to  the  evil  one,  to  be 
for  seven  years  the  most  beautiful  woman  on  earth. 
Only  look  at  her:  do  vou  not  see  that  the  devil  has 
kept  his  word?  But  see,  in  those  eyes  is  something 
dark  that  burns  and  bewitches.  When  she  became 
so  handsome,  she  went  to  the  Swedish  camp  and 
gave  the  king  a  love-potion,  so  that  he  neither 
heard  nor  saw  anybody  but  her  for  seven  whole 
weeks.  This  seemed  to  his  generals  a  sin  and  a 
shame,  as  the  enemy  pressed  them  hard;  and  so 
they  took  her  secretly  one  night  and  sent  her  here, 
to  spend  the  seven  j'ears  of  beauty  at  Korsholm." 

"  Did  the  king  love  her? "asked  Meri,  in  agita- 
tion. 

"  I  think  he  did,"  answered  the  sea-captain, 
gruffly. 


THE   SWORD  AND   THE   PLOUGH.         177 


"Did  she  also  love  the  king?" 

"  There  surely  are  in  the  whole  world  no  more 
curious  people  than  women.  How  the  deuce  can 
you  expect  me  to  know  all  about  it?  the  evil  one  is 
smarter  than  other  folks,  that  is  certain.  She  gave 
the  king  a  copper  ring     .     .     ." 

"  With  seven  circles  inside  each  other,  and 
three  letters,  engraved  on  the  plate?" 

"What  the  deuce! — do  you  know  that  already? 
I  have  heard  of  the  seven  circles,  but  not  of  the 
plate      .     .     ." 

Meri  took  a  deep  breath:  "  He  wears  it  still  !  " 

said  she  to  herself,  with  a  secret  joy.      Meri   was 

superstitious,  like  all  the  people  of    her  time.      It 

never  entered  her  mind  to  doubt  the  possibility  of 

witches,  enchantments,  and  love  potions;    but  this 

strange   dark   girl,  who   loved   the   king   and   was 

111  1 

loved  by  him  in  return     .     .      .     could  she  not  be 

innocent  of  the  horrible  things  they  said  about 
her?  The  poor  forgotten  one  was  seized  with  a 
violent  desire  to  approach  this  mysterious  being 
who  had  stood  so  near  the  great  king.  The  mo- 
ments were  precious;  in  a  few  hours  she  must 
return  to  Storkyro.  She  took  courage,  and  fol- 
lowed the  stranger  to  Korsholm. 

The  old  residence  within  the  ramparts  of  the 
castle  was,  in  spite  of  its  fine  prospect,  more  gloomy 
than  magnificent.  Frequent  changes  of  governors, 
who  only  lived  there  a  little  while  at  a  time,  had 
given  to  the  two-story  granite  building,  with  its 
side  wings  for  prisoners,  a  dreary  and  deserted  ap- 
pearance. It  resembled  a  jail  more  than  a  mighty 
chieftain's  castle.  The  gloominess  was  increased 
by  its  present  inmates — the  stern  Lady  Martha, 
with  her  old  maid  servants,  some  invalid  soldiers, 
and  the  bearded  jailors.  Had  Gustav  Adolf  recol- 
M 


178  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

lected  the  condition  of  the  place,  he  would  proba- 
bly not  have  sent  his  young  prisoner  to  such  a 
dispiriting  abode. 

Lady  Miirtlia  was  prepared  for  her  young  g-uest, 
whom  they  had  described  toher  as  a  dangerous  and 
depraved  person,  for  whose  cunning  no  bar  was 
strono-  enouo-h,  no  wall  thick  enou2;h.  She  had 
therefore  had  a  little  dark  chamber  within  her  own 
bedroom  prepared  for  Lady  Regina  and  her  duenna, 
and  made  up  her  mind  to  watch  the  wild  girl's 
slightest  motions  like  an  Argus.  Lady  Martha  was 
in  reality  a  good  honest  soul  but  a  sharp  and  stiff- 
necked  lady  of  the  old  school,  who  had  brought  up 
all  her  children  with  the  rod,  and  never  considered 
them  too  old  to  receive  a  merited  chastisement.  It 
never  entered  her  mind  that  a  lonely,  defenceless 
and  forsaken  young  girl,  far  away  in  a  strange  land, 
needed  a  comforting  hand,  a  motherly  kindness  ; 
Lady  Martha  held  that  a  spoiled  child  should  be 
tamed  by  discipline,  and  then,  as  she  believed,  it 
would  be  time  enough  to  think  of  a  milder  mode  of 
treatment. 

When  Lady  Regina,  accustomed  to  the  freedom 
of  the  sea,  entered  this  gloomy  dwelling,  an  invol- 
untary shudder  passed  through  her  slender  frame. 
Her  spirits  were  not  ligiitened  when  she  was  re- 
ceived on  the  steps  by  the  old  lady  herself,  in  a 
,  close  linen  cap  and  a  long  dark  woolen  cloak. 

It  is  possible  that  Regina's  bow  was  somewhat 
stiff,  and  her  whole  bearing  somewhat  proud,  when 
she  greeted  the  old  Lady  Martha  on  the  castle  steps. 
But  [yady  Martha  did  not  allow  herself  to  be  intim- 
idated by  it.  She  took  the  young  girl  by  both  her 
hands,  shook  them  vigorously,  and  nodded  a  greet- 
ing, about  midway  between  a  welcome  and  a  threat. 
Then  she  surveyed  her  guest  from  top  to  toe,  and 


THE   SWORD  AMD    THE  PLOUGH.         179 

the  result  of  this  survey  fell  in   low-spoken  words 
from  her  lips  : 

"  Stature  like  a  princess  ...  no  harm  ;  eyes 
black  as  a  gypsy's  .  .  .no  harm  ;  skin  white  as 
milk  .  .  .no  harm;  haughty  .  .  .-ah,  all,  that 
is  bad  ;  we  will  see  about  that,  my  sweet  friend." 

Regina.  impatient,  made  a  motion  to  ])roceed. 
But  Lady  Miirtiia  was  not  one  to  let  go  her  hold. 

"  Wait  a  bit,  my  dear,"  said  the  stern  dame,  as 
she  tried  to  collect  the  little  stock  of  German 
words  which  still  remained  in  her  memory's  scrap- 
bag  ;  "  with  patience,  one  may  go  a  long  way.  One 
who  crosses  my  threshold  must  not  be  a  head  high- 
er than  the  door-post.  Better  to  bend  in  youth 
than  creep  in  old  age.  There  .  .  .  that's  the 
way  for  a  young  person  to  greet  one  who  is  older 
and  wiser  .  .  ."  x\nd  before  Regina  was  aware, 
the  sti'ong  old  lady  had  put  her  right  hand  on  her 
neck,  her  left  against  her  waist,  and,  with  a  hasty 
pressure,  forced  her  proud  guest  to  bow  as  pro- 
foundly as  one  could  reasonably  ask. 

Lady  Regina's  pale  cheeks  were  covered  with  a 
flush  as  red  as  the  evening  sky  that  precedes  a 
storm.  Higher  and  prouder  than  ever  rose  the 
girl's  slender  form,  and  her  dark  eyes  shot  forth  a 
flash,  which  did  not,  however,  frighten  Lady  Mar- 
tha. Reariiia,  said  nothino-,  but  old  Dorthe  un- 
doubtedly  felt  disposed  to  give  Lady  Martha  a  les- 
son in  civility  in  her  mistress's  behalf,  for  she,  with 
her  lively  southern  gesticulations,  ascended  two 
steps  higher  on  the  stairs,  and  screamed,  beside 
herself  with  anger  : 

'•  Miserable  Finnish  witch!  how  dare  you  treat 
a  high-born  lady  so  shamefully?  Do  you  really 
know,  base  jailor,  whom  you  have  the  honor  of 
receiving  in  your  house?      You  do  not?      Then   I 


180  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

will  tell  you.  This  is  the  high-born  gracious  Lady 
Regina  von  Emmeritz,  born  Princess  of  Emmeritz, 
Hohenlohe,  and  Saalfeld,  Countess  of  Wertheim 
and  Bischoffshohe,  heiress  of  Dettelsbach  and  Kis- 
singen,  and  more.  Her  father  was  His  Highness 
the  Prince  of  Emmeritz,  who  owned  more  castles 
than  you,  ragged  witch,  have  huts  in  your  town. 
Her  mother  was  Princess  of  Wurtemberg,  related 
to  the  Electoral  House  of  Bavaria;  and  her  still 
living  uncle.  His  Highness,  worthy  of  honor  and 
glory,  the  Prince  Bishop  of  Wiirtzburg,  is  lord  of 
Marienburg,  and  the  town  of  Wiirtzburg,  with  all 
the  lands  belong-ino-  to  it.  You  take  advantagre 
because  your  heretic  king  has  seized  our  land  and 
city  and  made  us  prisoners,  but  the  day  will  come 
when  Saint  George  and  the  Holy  Virgin  will  de- 
scend and  destroy  you,  ye  heathen;  and  if  you  dare 
to  harm  a  hair  of  our  heads,  we  will  raze  this  castle 
to  the  ground,  and  exterminate  you,  miserable 
witch,  and  your  whole  town     .    .    ." 

It  IS  probable  that  old  Dorthe's  eloquence  would 
not  have  come  to  an  end  for  some  time  yet,  had  not 
Lady  Martha  made  a  sign  to  her  servants,  at  which 
they,  without  any  ceremony,  took  the  old  woman, 
and  carried  her  off,  in  spite  of  her  resistance,  to 
one  of  the  small  rooms  on  the  lower  floor,  where 
she  was  left  to  herself,  to  reflect  further  upon  her 
lady's  aristocratic  lineage.  But  Lady  Martha  took 
the  amazed  Regina,  half  by  force,  half  willingly, 
by  the  arm,  and  led  her  to  the  room  allotted  for 
her,  adjoining  her  own,  and  commanding  a  view  of 
the  town.  Here  the  stern  lady  left  her  for  the 
present,  yet  not  without  adding  the  following  ad- 
monition at  the  door: 

"I  will  tell  you,  my  friend:  to  obey  is  better 
than  to  weep;  the  bird  that  sings  too  early  in  the 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         181 

mornino:  is  before  evening:  in  the  claws  of  the 
hawk.  Follow  the  habits  of  the  country  you  are 
in.  It  is  now  seven  o'clock.  At  eight,  supper  is 
brought  in;  at  nine,  you  go  to  bed;  at  four  in  the 
morning  you  get  up;  and  if  you  don't  know  how 
to  card  and  spin,  I  will  provide  you  some  sewing, 
so  that  time  shall  not  hang  heavy  on  your  hands. 
Then  we  will  talk  together  again;  and  when  your 
vraiting-woman  learns  to  hold  her  tongue  you  may 
have  her  back.  Good-night;  don't  forget  to  say 
your  prayers;  a  psalm-book  lies  on  the  dressing- 
table." 

With  these  words  Lady  Martha  closed  the  door 
and  Regina  found  herself  alone.  Solitary,  impris- 
oned, far  away  in  a  foreign  land,  unprotected,  left 
to  the  mercy  of  a  hard  keeper, —  her  thoughts  were 
not  the  most  cheerful.  She  fell  on  her  knees,  and 
prayed  to  the  saints,  not  the  prayers  of  the  heretic 
psalm-book,  but  according  to  the  rosary  of  rubies 
which  her  uncle,  the  bishop,  had  given  her  at  her 
christening.  What  were  her  prayers?  Only 
heaven  and  the  dark  walls  of  Korsholm  know 
that,  but  a  sym|)athizing  heart  can  imagine.  She 
prayed  for  the  saints'  assistance,  for  the  victory  of 
her  faith,  and  the  downfall  of  the  heretics;  she 
prayed  also  that  the  saints  might  convert  King 
Gustaf  Adolf  to  the  only  saving  church;  that  he, 
another  Saul,  might  become  another  Paul.  Finally 
she  prayed  for  freedom  and  protection,  .  .  .  And 
the  hours  went  by;  her  supper  was  brought  in,  and 
she  perceived  it  not. 

Lady  Regina  looked  out  of  the  little  window, 
where  lay  a  landscape  in  the  sunset  glow — a  quiet 
bay,  with  its  golden  water-mirror;  it  was  not  the 
luxuriantly-blooming  Franconia,  with  its  ripening 
vineyards;  it  was  not  the  rushing  Main;    and  the 


183  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

town  over  there  was  not  the  rich  Wurtzburg,  with 
its  rows  of  cloisters  and  its  lofty  spires.  It  was 
the  poor,  bleak  Fiiilaiul,  and  an  arm  of  its  sea;  it 
was  the  newly  built  Wasa,  with  its  church,  Musta- 
saari,  the  oldest  in  East  Bothnia;  one  could  plainly 
see  the  reflection  of  the  sun  on  the  small  Gc  thic 
windows  with  stained  glass  from  Catholic  time;^, 
and  it  seemed  to  Regina  that  she  saw  the  trans- 
figured saints  looking  out  from  this,  their  former 
temple.  And  was  not  the  eye  of  the  setting  sun 
itself,  at  this  moment,  the  look  of  such  a  saint,  who, 
with  beatific  serenity,  gazed  down  on  the  world's 
strife?  All  was  so  still,  so  atoningly  placid;  the 
evening  radiance,  the  landscape's  pretty  verdure, 
the  freshly  mowed  fields  with  their  rows  of 
sheaves,  the  small  red  houses  with  their  shining 
windows,  all  invoked  devotion  and  peace. 

Then  Lady  Regina  heard  in  the  distance  a 
mild,  melancholy  song,  simple  and  unaffected,  but 
sung  as  though  from  nature's  own  heart,  on  a 
lonely  evening,  with  a  setting  sun,  by  the  shore  of 
a  resting  sea,  when  all  sweet  memories  waken  in  a 
yearning  breast.  At  first,  she  did  not  listen  to  it; 
but  the  song  came  nearer;  .  .  .  now  it  was  ob- 
structed by"  a  cottage  wall,  now  by  a  group  of 
hanging  birches;  now  it  was  heard  again,  free, 
loud,  and  clear,  and  finally  one  could  distinguish 
the  words. 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         183 


CHAPTER    VI. 

LOVES   OF    THE    SOUTH    AND    NORTHo 

AS  the  lonely  voice  came  nearer,  the  words  of 
the  soiio;  couhl  gradually  be  distinguished. 
It  was  a  gentle  heart  which  sang,  in  uneven  but 
impassioned  strains,  its  sorrows  and  its  yearnings, 
by  the  shore  of  the  sea,  in  the  glory  of  a  beauteous 
Auoust  evening;,  in  the  far  off  regions  of  ttie 
North. 

The  sunshine  over  the  round  woi'ld  lies — 

Over  hind  and  ocean's  surge  ; 
And  the  moon  sails  up  through  the  evening  skies, 

Above  the  horizon's  verge  ; — 
But  never  on  maiden  forgotten  and  lone 

Sliallfall  the  sun's  clear  light. 
And  never  the  blithe  moon  shall  look  down 

On  the  faith  of  a  faithless  kniglit. 

For  the  friend — the  only  one  I  held  dear — 

Dwells  far  in  his  castle  of  stone  ; 
He  walks  in  glory,  but  leaves  me  here 

With  all  my  griefs  alone  ; 
He  has  friends  an  hundred,  and  I  but  one; 

He  has  palace  and  towns  and  land  : 
I  scatter  my  pearls  in  the  setting  sun, 

I  sing  to  the  sea  and  strand. 

At  his  castle  the  bird  rests  in  her  flight, 

Under  the  southern  sky, 
And  sits  in  a  tree  top  and  sings  all  night 

Of  solitude's  woe — as  I. 
He  listens  ;  for  strangely  the  little  bird's  tone 

Thrills  the  proud  heart  of  the  knight  ; 
And  ere  he  guesses,  the  night  has  flown. 

As  vanishes  love's  delight. 


18^  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Tne  loDfj-er  Ladv  Retina  listened  to  these  sim- 
pie  tones,  which  were  to  her  at  once  so  strange  and 
yet  in  their  deep  melancholy  so  familiar,  the  more 
was  she  moved  by  the  echo  of  a  regret  that  so  near- 
ly resembled  her  own.  She  was  seized  with  a 
lono-iiio-  to  breathe  the  fresh  evening  air  ;  the  little 

•  'lit 

window  long  resisted  her  efforts  to  open  it,  but  all 
Lady  Martha's  prudence  had  not  been  able  to  pre- 
vent the  hinges  from  becoming  so  old  and  rusty 
that  they  finally  yielded  to  the  young  girl's  repeat- 
ed attempts.  Only  two  or  three  hours  had  she 
been  an  inmate  of  this  prison,  and  yet  she  inhaled 
the  evening  fragrance  as  a  life-prisoner  breathes 
the  air  of  freedom.  Her  heart  expanded,  her  eyes 
regained  their  fire,  her  thoughts  were  filled  with 
dreamy  ecstacy,  and  she  sang,  softly,  so  as  not  to 
be  heard  by  her  jailor,  but  clearly  and  melodious- 
ly, a  song  which  can  be  but  imperfectly  reproduced 
in  the  following  words  : 

So  deep  my  smart, 

Thus  I  impart 
To  thee,  O  Virgin,  all  my  heart ; 

For  honor  dear. 

My  soul's  wish  e'er    " 
Is  but  to  die,  without  a  fear. 

Amidst  earth's  kings 

My  loved  one  flings 
His  javelins,  like  the  Lord's  lightnings  ; 

Great  when  in  wrath 

All  in  his  path 
He  crushes — yet  he  mercy  hath. 

But  all  denied  : 

If  thou  decide, 
My  dagger  in  his  heart  I  hide  ; 

Holy  One — thou 

God's  Mother  !— Oh, 
Protect  him  from  the  deadly  blow  ! 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         185 

Let  him  but  see 

Thy  majesty, 
And  I  will  ask  no  more  of  thee  ; 

Oh,  guard  his  throne, 

His  life,  his  crown, 
And  let  my  soul  his  sins  atone. 

The  solitary  person  who  had  sung  the  first  song 
slowly  approached  tlie  castle  walls.  It  was  a  peas- 
ant woman,  wliose  pale  yet  once  beautiful  features 
wore  an  expression  of  winning  gentleness.  She 
was  apparently  trying  to  catch  the  song  of  the 
stranger;  but  she  did  not  succeed,  on  account  of 
the  suppressed  tones  and  the  unknown  language. 
She  seated  herself  on  a  stone,  at  a  little  distance 
from  the  wall,  and  bent  her  mild  gaze  steadily  to- 
ward the  prisoner  in  the  castle  window,  who  in  turn 
regarded  her  with  dark  penetrating  eyes.  These 
two  seemed  to  understand  each  other  perfectly  ; 
for  the  lanouage  of  song  needs  no  other  lexicon 
than  the  heart.  Or  did  a  presentiment  tell  them, 
the  girl  of  seventeen  and  the  woman  of  thirty-six, 
that  they  both  loved  the  same  man,  that  both  sang 
their  ship-wrecked  love  on  a  far  distant  strand,  but 
in  so  infinitely  different  a  manner? 

Up  in  the  north  the  summer  nights  are  clear 
until  the  besfinnino-  of  Autrust,  when  a  light  trans- 
parent  veil  spreads  itself  over  land  and  sea  as  soon 
as  the  sun  goes  down.  By  the  middle  of  August 
(the  time  of  which  we  are  speaking)  this  veil  has 
grown  thicker,  and  casts  a  mild,  soft  shade  over  the 
leaves  and  groves  of  summer.  Then  the  moon  rises 
upon  this  world  of  vanishing  green  ;  and  there  is 
nothing  more  sadly  beautiful  to  be  found  in  all  na- 
ture than  such  an  Ausfust  evening,  when  the  eve, 
accustomed  to  three  months'  unbroken  dav,  shrinks 
from  the  darkness,  though  seeing  this  darkness  in 
8* 


186  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

its  loveliest  aspects,  like  a  mild  sorrow  irradiated 
by  a  heavenly  glory.  This  impression  returns  every 
year,  even  though  one  lives  to  be  a  hundred  ;  it  is 
liglit  and  darkness  which  struggle  at  tiie  same  time 
for  the  world  and  the  human  heart. 

The  two  singers  felt  tlie  power  of  this  impres- 
sion; they  both  sat  mute  and  motionless,  quietly  re- 
garding each  other  in  the  deepening  twilight  ; 
neither  said  a  word,  yet  each  understood  the  other's 
innermost  thon<vhts. 

Suddenly  the  pale  woman  outside  rose,  turned 
toward  the  town,  and  seemed  to  be  listening  to 
some  sounds  which  disturbed  the  holy  peace  of 
evenintr. 

Laciv  Resfina  followed  the  motions  of  the  un- 
known  attentively,  leaning  out  of  the  window  that 
she  mio-ht  see  better.  All  nature  was  silent  and 
calm  ;  only  in  the  distance  was  heard  the  stroke  of 
oars  on  the  sea,  or  the  melancholy,  prolonged  tone 
oF  a  shepherd's  horn.  This  stillness,  increased  by 
the  first  darkness  of  the  autumn,  had  in  it  some- 
thing at  once  holy  and  solemn.  Jarring  strangely 
upon  the  peace  and  quiet  came  the  indistinct  noise 
from  the  distant  town.  It  was  not  the  surge  of  the 
sea,  or  the  roar  of  the  rapids,  or  the  crackling  of 
wood  fires  ;  although  it  resembled  all  these  sounds. 
It  was  rather  the  murmur  of  an  enrasced  mob,  ac- 
tuated  at  once  bv  furv  and  want.  .  .  In  a  short 
time  the  reflection  of  a  fire  was  seen  afar  off  in  the 
northern  part  of  the  town. 

With  the  speed  of  the  wind  the  lonely  figure 
outside  the  wall  hurried  away  in  the  direction  of 
the  threatenina:  danoer.  .  .  .  We  will,  for  a  mo- 
ment,  precede  her. 

The  ai'rival  of  the  man-of-war  for  the  trans- 
portation of  the   recruits  had  placed  these   in    a 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         187 

state  of  excitement  which  had  been  iieiglitened  by 
sorrow,  pride,  and  ale.  With  their  uiider-officers 
at  the  head,  they  liad  thronged  around  the  drain- 
shops;  and  at  this  time,  when  the  soldier  was 
all-important,  it  was  often  necessary  to  overlook 
his  license,  in  order  to  keep  him  in  good  humor. 
The  superior  officers  consequently  pretended  not 
to  notice  that  two  hundred  young  men,  with  the 
combative  disposition  of  the  East  Bothnians,  in- 
toxicated themselves  to  excess;  and  it  is  possible 
that  this  policy  would  have  been  the  right  one,  had 
not  a  peculiar  circumstance,  dangerous  to  peace, 
brought  their  unrestrained  passions  to  a  full  blaze. 

The  brave  sergeant,  Bengt  Kristerson,  had  not 
neglected  this  opportunity  to  do  himself  all  possi- 
ble credit.  Inflated  with  the  thouarht  of  his 
own  dignity,  he  had  jumped  up  on  a  table  and 
thoroughly  demonstrated  to  his  new  comrades: — 
first,  that  it  was  really  he  who  had  conquered  Ger- 
many; secondly,  that  he  would  long  ago  have 
driven  Emperor  Ferdinand,  alive,  into  the  river 
Danube,  had  the  latter  not  been  in  league  with 
Satan,  and  bewitched  the  whole  Swedish  army,  the 
king  hrst  of  all;  thirdly,  that  on  the  night  of  tiie 
Frankfort  ball,  he,  Bengt,  had  stood  on  guard  out- 
side the  king's  bedchamber,  and  plainly  seen  Beel- 
zebub, in  the  form  of  a  young  girl,  occasion  a 
terrible  commotion  there;  and  fourthly  (and  to 
*Jiis  conclusion  the  sergeant  came  quite  naturally, 
in  the  inspiration  of  the  moment),  that  the  weal  or 
woe  of  the  whole  kingdom  and  of  the  world  de- 
pended upon  tlie  witch  who  was  now  imprisoned 
within  Korsholin's  walls. 

"You  will  see  that  the  black-haired  witch 
brings  the  plague  to  the  town,"  observed,  thought- 


188  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

fully,  a  Malax  peasant,  with  a  shaggy  appearance 
and  very  light  hair. 

"The  wolf-cub!" 

"  The  kino-'s  murderess!  " 

"  Shall  we  endure  it  to  have  her  sit  in  peace  and 
quiet,  and  destroy  both  king  and  country  with  her 
witcheries?"  cried  a  drunken  recorder  who  had 
joined  the  company. 

"  Let  us  duck  lier  in  the  sea!  "  shrieked  a  Nerpes 
peasant. 

"Let  us  club  her  on  the  spot!"  exclaimed  a 
Lappo  peasant,  with  an  eagle  nose  and  dark 
bushy  eyebrows. 

"And  if  they  don't  give  her  into  our  hands  we 
will  set  fire  to  Korsholm,  and  burn  the  owl  and  the 
nest  at  the  same  time,"  said  a  ferocious  Laihela 
peasant. 

"  Better  that  than  to  have  the  kingdom  ruined," 
remarked  a  grave-looking  seal-hunter  from  Replot. 

"  Torches!  "  shrieked  a  W5ra.  peasant. 

"  To  Korsholm !  "  howled  the  whole  crowd.  And 
excited,  as  is  usually  the  case,  by  their  own  words, 
the  horde  rushed  to  the  large  open  fire-place  of  the 
dram-shop,  and  snatched  up  all  the  burning  brands 
that  were  to  be  found.  But  as  ill-luck  would  have 
it,  there  was  a  great  quantity  of  flax  hanging  in 
bundles  on  the  walls  of  the  room.  One  of  the 
recruits,  in  his  drunkenness,  swung  his  brand  too 
high,  the  flax  took  fire,  the  strong  draft  from  the 
open  door  fanned  the  flame,  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  ale-house  was  in  full  blaze.  All  rushed  out. 
Nobody  had  time  to  realize  how  it  happened. 

"  It  is  witchcraft!  "  shrieked  some. 

"  The  witch  at  Korsholm  will  have  to  pay  for 
this!"  cried  others;  and  the  whole  raging  mob 
hastened  at  full  speed  to  the  old  castle. 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         189 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE    SIEGE    OF    KORSHOLM. 

MERI  (for  the  solitary  singer  was  none  other 
than  she)  had  scarcely  realized  the  purpose 
of  the  mad  crowd,  before  she  hurried  with  the 
speed  of  the  wind,  and  by  the  shortest  wav,  back 
to  Korsholm.  In  the  moonlight,  which  shed  its 
silver  rays  over  the  landscape,  slie  could  plainly 
distinguish  Regina's  dark  locks,  which,  blacker  than 
the  night,  stood  in  relief  from  the  room  in  the  back- 
ground, like  a  shadow  in  the  midst  of  shade.  And 
under  these  locks  shone  two  eyes,  dreamy,  deep, 
like  the  glimmer  of  the  stars  in  the  dusky  mirror 
of  a  lake.  The  words  died  on  Meri's  lips;  all  the 
strange  reports  rose  like  spectres  before  her 
imagination.  She  who  sat  so  lonely  up  there 
at  the  window,  was  she  not,  after  all,  a  southern 
witch,  a  transformed  sorceress,  weeping  over  her 
fate  in  being  compelled  to  spend  the  seven  years 
of  her  beauty  within  these  walls,  and  then  again 
become  what  she  had  been  before — a  frightful 
monster,  half  woman  and  half   serpent? 

Meri  stood  as  if  petrified  at  the  foot  of  the 
wall. 

But  nearer  and  nearer  was  heard  the  murmur 
of  the  wild  crowd,  and  the  lights  of  the  brands 
began  to  be  reflected  on  the  castle.  Then  the  su- 
perstitious peasant-woman  took  courage,  and  raised 
her  voice  so  that  it  could  be  heard  at  the  window. 

"  Fly,  your  grace!  "  said  she, rapidly,  in  Swedish. 


190  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"  Fly!  A  great  danger  threatens  you;  the  soldiers 
are  wild  and  frantic;  they  say  that  you  have  tried 
to  murder  the  king,  and  they  demand  your  life." 

Regina  saw  the  pale  shape  in  the  moonlight, 
and  before  her  imagination  rose  all  the  stories  she 
had  heard  about  this  land  of  witchcraft.  During 
her  ten  months'  stay  among  the  Swedes  she  had  in 
some  measure  learned  to  understand  their  language; 
she  did  not  immediately  comprehend  the  other's 
meaning,  but  a  single  word  was  sufficient  to  fasten 
her  attention. 

"The  king?"  repeated  she,  in  broken  Swedish. 
"  Who  are  you,  and  what  have  you  to  tell  me  about 
the  great  Gustaf  Adolf  ?  " 

"  Waste  not  a  moment,  your  grace!  "  continued 
Meri,  without  listening  to  Regina's  question.  "They 
are  already  at  the  gates,  and  Lady  Martha,  with  her 
six  soldiers,  will  not  be  able  to  protect  you  against 
two  hundred.  Quick!  If  you  cannot  come  out 
through  the  door,  tie  together  sheets  and  shawls 
and  let  yourself  down  from  the  window;  I  will  re- 
ceive you." 

Regina  began  to  understand  that  some  danger 
threatened  her  ;  but  far  from  being  terrified  by  it, 
she  heard  it  with  a  secret  pleasure.  Was  she  not 
a  martyr  to  her  faith,  transported  to  this  wild  land 
for  her  zeal  in  trying  to  convert  the  mightiest  ene- 
my of  her  church  ?  Perhaps  the  moment  was  at 
hand  when  the  saints  would  grant  her  a  martyr- 
crown,  deiirly  bought  by  life  itself.  Why  should  she 
shun  an  honor  which  she  had  so  recently  craved  ? 
Was  it  not  the  tempter  himself,  who,  in  the 
pale  woman's  form,  tried  to  lure  her  from  an  im- 
perishable glory?  And  Regina  answered  :"  ^i 
dixit  diaholus  :  da  te  jyTceciiyitem  ex  hoc  loco,  nam 
scriptum  est :  angelis  suis  niandavit  de  te.,    ut   te 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.        191 

tueantur  ne  tillo  modo  Icedaris.''''  *  At  these  words 
the  moon  appeared  round  tlie  corner  of  tlie  vva  1 
and  tlirevv  its  melanclioly  li<>ht  on  the  beautiful 
girl's  face.  Her  cheeks  glowed,  her  eyes  burned 
with  an  ecstatic  brilliance.  Meri  looked  at  her  full 
of  wonder  and   dread    •      .     and  aiiain   it  flashed 

CD 

through  her  mind  that  something  must  be  wrong 
with  a  being  of  such  a  singular  appearance,  and 
who  spoke  so  strangely.  An  indescribable  fear 
seized  her,  and  she  fled,  without  knowing  why,  away 
throuo-h  the  moonlio-ht,  back  to  the   town. 

In  the  meantime  Regina  in  her  chamber  had 
heard  the  murmur  from  the  castle  vard.  The  drunk- 
en  horde  had  been  checked  by  a  well- barred  gate, 
and  stood  clamorous  on  the  outside,  threatening 
not  to  leave  a  stone  of  the  castle  standing,  unless 
the  witch  was  immediately  given  up  to  them.  But 
Lady  Martha,  although  just  awakened  from  her 
sound  sleep,  was  not  one  to  be  easily  scared.  She 
had  been  in  more  than  one  siege  in  her  younger 
days,- and  understood,  like  a, wise  commander,  that 
a  fortress  does  not  fall  at  biff  words.  "  One  who 
gains  time,  gains  all,"  thought  Lady  Martha,  and  she 
therefore  began  to  negotiate  for  capitulation,  with 
the  request  to  know  what  the  besiegers  especially 
wanted,  and  wliv  thev  wanted  it.  Li  the  meantime, 
half  a  dozen  rusty  muskets  were  hunted  up,  with 
which  the  castle's  invalids  were  armed  ;  the  six 
keepers  were  provided  with  clubs  and  pikes  ;  the 
servant  girls  themselves  were  ordered  to  seize  the 
flails  with  which  more  than  one  of  Fleming's  caval- 
ry received  their  death-blow  during  the  Club  War. 
Thus  prepared.  Lady  Martha thouglu  she  could  with 

*  "  And  Satan  saith  unto  him  •.  '  Cast  thyself  down  ;  for  it  is  written, 
He  shall  give  His  angels  cliarge  concerning  tliee,  ttiat  tliey  may  preserve 
thee,  60  tliat  no  liarni  may  befall  iliee.'  "  Compare  Matthew  iv,  6,  where 
the  Lutheran  text  differs  from  the  Catliolic. 


192  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

safety  break  off  negotiations  ;  she  therefore  ad- 
vanced in  person  to  the  inside  of  the  gate,  and 
began  a  scolding  lesson  which  had  in  it  strong 
words  and  but  little  music. 

"  You  crazy  scamps  !  "  shrieked  the  brave  dame, 
with  more  force  than  elegance,  "  may  the  devil  take 
you,  as  many  as  you  are,  drunken  ale-bibbers!  Pack 
yourselves  off  this  instant,  or,  as  sure  as  my  name 
is  Martha  Ulfsparre,  you  shall  have  a  taste  of  '  Mas- 
ter Hans'  on  vour  backs  !  vou  villains,  sots,  shame- 
less  knaves,  night  loafers  !  " 

"  Master  Hans"  was  a  good-sized  stick  of  braid- 
ed rattan  which  seldom  left  Lady  Martha's  hand, 
and  for  whose  impressive  maxims  all  the  inmates 
of  the  castle  entertained  a  deep  respect.  But  wheth- 
er the  noisy  crowd  did  not  understand  "  Master 
Hans' "  excellent  qualities,  or  whether,  in  the  up- 
roar. Lady  Martha's  words  were  only  heard  by  those 
standing  nearest,  the  mob  continued  to  press  on 
with  loud  cries,  and  the  strong  gate  shook  upon  its 
hinges. 

"  Out  with  the  witch  !  "  shrieked  the  wildest,  and 
some  of  them  began  to  throw  brands  against  the 
gate,  in  the  hope  of  setting  it  on  fire. 

Lady  Martha  had  on  the  ramparts  two  clumsy 
cannon  from  the  time  of  Gustaf  I,  called  "the 
hawk  "and  "the  dove."  Their  innocent  employ- 
ment had  long  been  to  respond  to  the  salute  of  ves- 
sels arriving  in  the  harbor,  and  on  solemn  occa- 
sions, such  as  christening  days  and  royal  nuptials, 
to  interpret  in  loud  tones  the  official  sentiments  of 
pleasure.  It  is  true,  these  guns  were  mounted  on 
some  old  disused  ramparts  outside  of  the  present 
fortifications  of  the  castle — the  high  fence  with  its 
iron  spikes — and  the  cannons  were  consequently 
more  easily  accessible  to  the  enemy  than  to  the 


THE    SWORD  AND   THE  PLOUGH.         193 

besieged.  But  Lady  Martha  calculated  very  cor- 
rectly that  a  cannonade  from  the  ramparts  would 
overawe  the  enemy,  and  serve  as  a  signal  of  dis- 
tress to  summon  assistance  from  the  man-of-war 
and  the  town.  She  therefore  ord'ered  two  of  her 
soldiers  to  steal  out  under  cover  of  the  night,  load 
"  the  hawk  "  and  "  the  dove,"  and  directly  after  tlie 
shot  was  fired — with  powder  only — return  quickly 
to  the  castle. 

The  elfectof  this  was  instantaneous.  The  hue 
and  cry  ceased  directly  ;  and  Lady  Martha  did  not 
let  the  opportunity  slip  from  her  hands. 

"  Do  you  hear,  you  pack  of  thieves  ?"  screamed 
she,  mounted  on  a  ladder  so  that  her  white  night- 
cap was  seen  in  the  moonlight  a  few  feet  above  the 
gate  ;  "if  you  don't  this  minute  take  yourselves 
off  from  His  Royal  Majesty's  castle,  1  will  let  my 
cannon  shoot  you  into  fragments,  like  so  many  cab- 
bage stalks;  you  noisy,  drunken  swine  !  I  sup- 
pose you  know  that  angry  dogs  get  torn  skins,  and 
the  chicken  who  sticks  his  neck  in  the  jaws  of  the 
fox  will  have  to  look  around  to  see  where  his  head 
is.  I  shall  have  you  cut  to  pieces,  you  ruffians  !  " 
continued  Lady  Martha,  more  and  more  excited  ; 
"  1  will  make  mince-meat  of  you  and  throw  you 
to  the     .     ." 

Unfortunately,  the  brave  commander  was  not 
allowed  to  finish  her  heroic  harangue.  One  of  the 
crowd  had  found  a  rotten  turnip  on  the  ground, 
and  flung  it  so  skilfully  at  the  white  night-cap  shin- 
ing in  the  moonlight,  that  Lady  Martha,  struck 
right  in  the  brow,  was  obliged  to  retire,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  had  to  leave  a  sentence  unfin- 
ished. An  irrepressible  laugh  now  rose  among  the 
crowd,  and  with  it  Lady  Martha's  supremacy  was 
hopelessly  impaired.  The  enemy  stormed  more 
N  9 


194  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

and  more  arrogantly  against  the  gate,  the  hinges 
bent,  the  boards  gave  away,  finally  half  the  gate 
fell  in  with  a  terrible  crash,  and  the  whole  crowd 
of  the  besiegers  rushed  into  the  court-yard. 

Now  one  could  have  wao-ered  three  ao-ainst  one 
that  Lady  Martha  would  be  obliged  to  capitulate. 
But  no  ;  she  withdrew  quickly,  with  all  her  force, 
to  the  interior  of  the  castle,  barring  the  entrance, 
and  placed  her  musketeers  at  the  windows,  threat- 
ening to  shoot  down  the  first  person  who  attempted 
to  enter.  Such  resolute  couraq-e,  on  anv  other 
occasion,  would  not  have  failed  of  its  eft'ect;  but 
the  infuriated  rabble  neither  heard  nor  saw.  One 
of  the  men  in  front,  who  had  found  a  crowbar,  began 
to  batter  the  door. 

Then  arose  confusion  and  outcries  at  the  rear 
of  the  crowd.  Those  in  the  middle  turned  round 
and  discerned  through  the  open  gateway,  as  far  as 
one  could  see  in  the  uncertain  moonlight,  the  whole 
space  outside  filled  with  head  upon  head  and  mus- 
ket upon  musket.  It  was  as  if  an  army  had  sprung 
up  from  the  earth  to  annihilate  the  disturbers  of 
the  peace.  Could  it  be  all  the  bloodless  shades  of 
the  long  deceased  champions  of  Korsholm  had 
risen  from  their  graves  to  avenge  the  violence  that 
had  been  committed  aiirainst  their  old  fortress? 

In  order  to  explain  the  unexpected  sight  which 
was  now  presented  to  the  view  of  the  belligerents, 
we  must  remember  that  a  great  part  of  the  country 
people  from  the  adjacent  regions  had  flocked  to  the 
town  to  witness  the  departure  of  the  recruits.  It 
ought  also  to  be  mentioned  that  the  Storkyro  peas- 
ant king  had  remained  over  night  in  Wasa,  prob- 
ably in  the  secret  expectation  of  hearing  some 
news  about  Bertel  from  the  crew  of  the  "  Maria 
Eleonora."     The  burning  of  the  ale-house  and  the 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         195 

march  of  the  noisy  crowd  toward  Korsliolm  had  set 
all  Wasa  in  commotion,  and  when  Meri  arrived  in 
breathless  haste,  implornii^  her  father  to  save  the 
imprisoned  lady,  she  found  open  ears  everywhere. 
The  East  Bothnian  is  soon  ready  for  battle;  and 
when  the  peasants  learned  the  wrong  which  had 
been  done  Bertila,  their  foremost  man,  the  old  ani- 
mosity against  the  soldiers  awakened  within  them. 
They  forgot  that  many  of  their  own  sons  and 
brothers  had  just  donned  the  recruit's  jacket; 
they  could  not  possibly  neglect  so  welcome  an 
opportunity  to  give  the  soldiers  a  thrashing,  both 
in  the  name  of  humanity  and  in  defense  of  the 
king's  castle.  They  therefore  marched,  with  Ber- 
tila  at  the  head,  about  a  hundred  strong,  to  the 
rescue  of  the  castle;  and  what  in  the  moonlight 
might  have  been  taken  for  pikes  and  muskets,  was 
scarcely  anything  but  hastily-snatched  poles  and 
rails — the  usual  weapons  in  the  fights  of  that  re- 
gion. 

As  soon  as  the  soldiers  saw  that  they  were  at- 
tacked from  the  outside,  they  tried  to  hide  their 
consternation  by  loud  shouts  and  threats.  Uncer- 
tain of  the  enemy's  strength,  some  of  them  began 
to  thirds;  of  a  possible  retreat  over  the  spiked  fence; 
others  believed  that  they  had  to  deal  with  a  whole 
army  of  spectres,  called  up  through  the  strange 
witch's  incantations,  which  seemed,  even  to  the 
most  courageous,  uncomfortable  and  unpleasant. 
They  were  soon  roused  from  their  delusion,  how- 
ever, by  the  well-known  sounds  of  M  ilax  Swedish 
and  Lillkyro  Finnish,  which  could  with  very  good 
reason  be  thought  to  come  from  human  lips,  and 
not  from  sfhosts.  At  the  moment  when  the  forces 
of  the  outer  enemy  clogged  up  the  gateway,  a 
silence   arose,  as  if   by  agreement  on  each  side, 


196  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

durins:  which  could  be  distinguished  a  voice  from 
the  castle  window  and  another  from  the  rampart, 
both  speaking  at  once: 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  so?"  shrieked  Lady  Martha 
bravely,  from  the  window:  "didn't  I  tell  you, 
tipplers,  vagabonds,  that  you  ought  to  think  seven 
times  before  you  stuck  your  noses  between  the 
wedge  and  the  tree,  and  if  the  tail  has  once  got 
into  the  fox  trap,  there  is  no  otlier  resource  left 
than  to  bite  it  off.  A  big  mouth  needs  a  broad 
back,  and  now  hold  yourselves  in  readiness  to  pay 
the  fiddler!" 

And  with  this,  Lady  Martha  drew  back;  very 
likely  from  fear  of  a  new  volley  of  rotten  turnips. 

The  other  voice  from  the  rampart  was  that  of 
an  old  man,  who  in  powerful  tones  cried  to  the  sol- 
diers: 

"  If  you  will  lay  down  your  arms  and  give  up 
your  leaders,  then  the  rest  may  go  in  peace.  If 
not,  there  shall  be  a  dance,  the  like  of  which  Kors- 
holm  has  never  seen,  and  we  will  see  to  it  that  the 
bows  are  well-rosined." 

"May  all  the  devils  take  you,  peasant  lubber!  " 
replied  a  voice  from  the  court-yard,  by  which 
could  be  plainly  recognized  the  jolly  sergeant, 
Bengt  Kristerson.  "If  I  had  you  between  my 
fingers,  I  would — blitz-donner-kreutz-Pappenheitn! 
— teach  you  to  propose  to  brave  soldiers  a  cowardly 
suri'cnder!  Go  ahead,  boys;  let  us  clear  the  gate- 
way and  drive  the  gang  back  to  their  porridge 
kettle!" 

Fortunately,  none  of  the  soldiers  were  provided 
with  fire-arms,  and  very  few  with  swords,  as  the 
recruits  had  not  yet  obtained  weapons.  Most  of 
them  had,  besides  their  extinguished  brands  and 
some    fragments   of    broken    wagons,  only   sticks 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE   PLOUGH.         197 

snatched  from  a  wood-pile  in  the  yard.  Thus 
equipped,  the  crowd  bore  down  upon  the  entrance. 

Ax  the  first  assault,  the  soldiers  were  received 
with  such  enerofetic  blows  of  the  rails,  that  many 
drew  back  with  bloody  heads.  But  soon  the  crowd 
at  the  grate  became  so  dense  that  no  arm  could  be 
lifted,  no  blow  dealt,  and  a  frantic  struggle  took 
place  between  those  in  front,  while  those  from 
both  sides  closed  around  them  and  finally  pressed 
them  so  tio-htlv  that  no  one  could  move  hand  or  foot, 
and  they  expected  every  minute  to  be  squeezed  to 
death.  Here  were  seen  vigorous  arms  trying  in 
vain  to  overthrow  an  enemy;  there,  broad  shoul- 
ders exerting  themselves  to  make  their  way  through 
the  crushing  mass.  Finally  the  pressure  from  within 
became  so  strong  that  the  foremost  ranks  of  the 
peasants  were  thrust  aside  or  thrown  down,  and 
about  half  of  the  soldiers  cleared  a  way  toward  the 
open  plain  outside  the  ramparts,  while  the  other 
half,  again  penned  up,  were  obliged  to  remain  in 
the  court-yard. 

Then  began  a  regular  battle.  They  fought 
with  poles  and  sticks,  with  whips  and  fists.  Here 
rained  down  many  a  blow  which  might  better  have 
been  bestowed  on  Isolani's  Croats;  here  was  per- 
formed many  a  daring  exploit  which  would  have 
been  better  suited  to  the  battle-fields  of  Germany. 
The  soldiers,  although  superior  in  numbers,  were 
divided  by  the  gate  into  two  detached  corps,  and 
soon  had  the  worst  of  it.  Part  of  them,  numbering 
the  youngest  of  the  recruits,  took  to  flight,  and 
scattered  themselves  toward  the  town;  others  were 
overpowered  and  badly  beaten;  others  again — the 
old  experienced  soldiers — retired  to  the  ramparts, 
where,  secure  from  attack  in  the  rear,  they  defended 
themselves  with  desperate  courage. 


198  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Victory  now  seemed  to  incline  decidedly  toward 
the  side  of  the  peasants,  when  the  strife  received 
a  new  impetus.  The  forces  at  the  gate,  who,  on 
account  of  the  struggle  outside  the  ramparts,  had 
forgotten  the  enemy  within,  were  surprised  by  the 
enclosed  soldiers,  who  rushed  out  to  help  their 
comrades.  These  now  found  breathing  space,  and 
in  their  turn  attacked  the  peasants  with  increased 
fury;  the  aiFray  became  more  and  more  involved, 
the  victory  more  and  more  uncertain;  both  parties 
had  defeats  to  reveno-e,  and  the  rao-e  of  both  in- 
creased  as  the  strength  on  both  sides  became  more 
equal. 

And  over  this  scene  of  tumult  and  confusion, 
of  lamentation,  cries  of  victory,  threats,  and  wild 
conflict,  the  clear  and  silvery  Au2:ust  moon  beamed 
like  a  heavenly  eve  upon  the  self-inflicted  anguish 
and  misery  of  earth.  All  the  inlets  of  the  bay 
shone  in  the  moonlight;  in  the  tree  tops  and  on  the 
moist  grass  there  glittered  millions  of  dewdrops, 
like  pearls  on  midsummer's  green  robe.  All  nature 
breathed  an  indescribable  calm;  a  gentle  breeze 
from  the  great  shining  sea  in  the  west  passed 
softly  over  the  coast;  in  the  distance  was  heard  the 
monotonous  roll  of  the  surf  upon  the  beach,  and 
the  stars  looked  down,  silent  and  twinkling,  into 
the  dark  waters. 

When  the  yard  was  found  empty,  Lady  Martha 
and  her  soldiers  ventured  out  to  behold  from  a 
nearer  standpoint  the  strife  on  the  ramparts.  The 
stout-hearted  old  lady  undoubtedly  felt  inclined 
to  take  part  in  the  contest  in  her  wa^',  for  she  was 
heard  to  cry  to  the  peasants  in  a  loud  voice: 

"  That's  right,  boys!  drum  ahead!  let  the  stick 
fly!  many  have  danced  after  worse  fiddles!"  And 
to  the  soldiers  she  screamed:  "Good  luck  to  you, 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         ]90 

my  children;  help  yourselves  to  a  little  supper; 
Korsholin  offers  the  best  the  house  has.  Be  at 
ease;  your  witch  is  in  good  keeping;  Korsholm 
has  bolts  and  bars  for  you  too,  miscreants!  " 

But  as  if  a  ca[.ricious  fate  wished  to  convict 
the  old  lady  of  untruth  and  put  all  her  prudence 
to  shame,  a  tall,  dark  female  form  appeared  at  that 
moment  on  the  top  of  the  rampart,  and  outlined 
itself  ao-ainst  the  moonlit  skv. 

Lady  Martha  felt  the  words  die  on  her  lips 
when,  lu  dismay,  she  recognized  her  well-guarded 
prisoner.  How  Regina  had  got  out  through  locked 
doors  and  closed  windows  was  to  the  good  dame 
such  an  inexplicable  enigma  that  she  was  for  an 
instant  ii;fected  by  the  superstitious  belief  in  the 
strange  girl's  alliance  with  the  powers  of  darkness. 
She  gave  up  all  idea  of  catching  the  fugitive,  and 
expected  nothing  less  than  to  see  large  black  wings 
grow  out  of  her  shoulders,  and  to  see  her,  like  an 
immense  raven,  soar  aloft  toward  the  starry  firma- 
ment. 

The  reader,  on  the  other  hand,  can  easily  find  a 
natural  explanation.  The  din  of  the  conflict  and 
the  sound  of  the  two  cannon  shots  had  reached 
Regina's  lonely  chamber.  Every  moment  she 
expected  to  be  seized  by  executioners  and  dragged 
to  a  certain  death;  and  so  glorious  did  the  lot  of 
dying  for  her  faith  seem  to  her,  that  her  impa- 
tience was  increased  to  the  highest  degree  when 
the  noise  down  below  continued,  but  still,  after  an 
hour's  interval,  no  human  feet  were  heard  to  ap- 
proach her  door.  Finally  the  thought  ran  through 
her  fanatical  soul,  that  the  prince  of  darkness 
envied  her  so  grand  a  fate,  and  that  the  strife  going 
on  below  was  instio-ated  bv  him  in  order  to  pre- 
pare  for  her,  instead  of  a  glorious  death,  a  languish- 


200  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

ing  life  in  captivity,  without  profit  or  joy.  She 
remembered  the  singer's  advice,  to  lower  herself 
down  through  the  open  window  by  means  of  sheets 
and  shawls;  quickly  she  formed  her  resolution, 
and  before  many  minutes  stood  in  view  of  all  the 
combatants  on  the  rampart. 

As  they  became  aware  of  the  tall  form  up  there 
in  the  moonlight,  they  were  seized  with  the  same 
superstitious  dread  which  had  just  paralyzed  Lady 
Martha's  quick  tongue.  The  contest  gradually 
subsided,  and  continued  only  at  the  most  remote 
points;  friend  and  foe  were  affected  by  a  common 
horror,  and  near  the  rampart  there  was  a  silence  so 
deep  that  one  could  hear  in  the  distance  the  sea's 
low  murmur  against  the  pebbly  beach. 

And  Lady  Regina  spoke  with  a  voice  so  loud 
and  clear  that  if  her  Swedish  had  not  been  so  im- 
perfect she  could  have  been  very  well  understood 
by  all  within  hearing. 

"  Yo  children  of  Belial!"  said  she,  in  tones 
which,  though  slightly  trembling  at  first,  soon  be- 
came firm  and  calm,  "ye  people  of  the  heretic 
faith,  why  do  ye  delay  to  take  my  life?  Here  I 
stand  without  weapons,  without  any  human  protec- 
tion, with  the  high  heaven  above  me  and  the  earth 
and  sea  at  my  feet,  and  say  to  you:  Your  Luther 
was  a  false  prophet;  there  is  no  salvation  except 
in  the  true  universal  Catliolic  Church.  Therefore,  be 
converted  to  the  Holy  Vii'gin  and  all  the  saints; 
acknowledge  the  Pope  to  be  Christ's  vicegerent,  as 
he  truly  is,  that  you  may  avert  from  your  heads  the 
sword  of  St.  George,  which  is  already  raised  to 
destroy  you.  But  me  you  can  kill  in  order  to  seal 
the  veracity  of  my  faith;  here  I  stand;  why  do 
you  hesitate?     I  am  ready  to  fall  for  my  faith!  " 

It  was   Lady   Regina's   good   fortune   that   her 


THE   SWORD   AND    THE  PLOUGH.         201 

speech  was  not  understood  by  those  to  whom  it 
was  addressed,  for  so  strong*  was  the  power  of 
Lutheranism,  in  this  fervid  time  when  nations  and 
individuals  sacrificed  life  and  welfare  for  their  reli- 
gion, tliat  even  the  humblest  and  most  ignorant 
were  filled  with  burning  zeal  and  a  blind  hate  to 
the  Pope  and  his  followers,  of  which  all  our  crab- 
bed but  pithy  old  psalm-books  yet  to-day  bear 
plain  witness.  Had  this  mass  of  people,  both 
peasants  and  soldiers,  heard  Regina  extol  the  Pope 
and  declare  Luther  a  false  prophet,  they  would 
inevitably  have  torn  her  to  pieces  in  their  rage.  As 
it  was,  the  young  girl's  words  were  an  unmeaning 
sound  in  their  ears;  they  saw  her  firm  bearing,  and 
the  respect  which  courage  and  misfortune  united 
always  inspire  did  not  fail  to  have  its  effect  upon 
the  enrasfed  throng'  a  few  moments  before  so 
furious,  now  irresolute,  and  at  a  loss  what  to  think 
or  do. 

Lady  Regina  again  expected,  in  vain,  to  be 
drag-o-ed  to  death.  She  descended  from  the  ram- 
part  and  mingled  in  the  shyly  yielding  crowd;  all 
could  see  that  she  was  utterly  unprotected,  and  yet 
not  a  hand  moved  to  seize  her. 

"It  is  not  a  being  of  flesh  and  blood,  it  is  a 
sliadow,"  said  an  old  Wora  peasant,  hesitatingly. 
"  It  seems  to  me  that  I"  see  the  moon  shine  right 
ttirouo;h  her." 

"  We  may  test' that,"  exclaimed  a  shaggy  fellow 
from  Ilmola,  laying  his  coarse  hand  rather  roughly 
on  Regina's  shoulder. 

It  was  a  critical  moment;  the  young  girl  turned 
around  and  looked  her  assailant  in  the  face  with 
such  dark,  deep,  shining  eyes,  that  the  latter, 
seized  with  a  strange  emotion,  immediately  drew 
his  hand  back,  and  stole  away  abashed.     A  large 


202  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

number  of  those  standing  nearest  followed  him. 
None  could  explain  the  power  of  those  dark  eyes 
in  the  moonlight,  but  all  felt  their  mysterious  in- 
fluence. Ill  a  few  moments  the  space  around 
Recrina  was  vacant,  the  strife  had  ceased,  and  a 
patrolling  force,  which  at  last  arrived,  put  an  end 
to  the  disturbance  by  arresting  the  most  refrac- 
tory of  the  combatants. 


But  not  long  did  the  rivalry  engendered  by  the 
Club  War  continue  between  the  peasants  and  the 
soldiers — between  the  industrious^:>/o?<(//i,  Finland's 
pride,  and  the  conquering  sword,  which  at  this 
time  was  drawn  to  subdue  the  Roman  emperor 
himself. 

Of  Regina  we  will  only  say  that  she  allowed 
herself,  with  a  sigh  over  the  martyr-crown  she  had 
missed,  to  be  taken  ])ack  to  the  dark  and  solitary 
prison-chamber  under  Lady  Martha's  charge.  But 
Bertila  returned  with  his  daughter  to  Storkyro: 
the  older  person  with  thoughts  of  a  coming  great- 
ness, the  younger  with  the  memory  of  a  past  joy. 
And  it  should  be  observed  that  all  this  occurred 
durino-  two  davs  of  the  summer  of  1632 — before 
King  Gustaf  Adolf's  death,  which  was  described  at 
the  end  of  the  first  story. 


Days  and  months  go  by,  and  human  destinies 
change  form,  and  the  swift  word  is  obliged  to  check 
its  flight  and  remain  awhile  mute  in  expectation 
of  the  evenings  which  are  to  come.  For  the  Sur- 
geon's tales,  like  a  child's  joy  or  sorrow,  lasted  but 
a  sinarle  eveninsr — short  enoug-h  for  those  who 
sympathetically   listened    to    them,    and    perhaps 


THE   SWORD  AND    THE  PLOUGH.         203 

sufficiently  long  for  the  others.  But  never  was  the 
thread  of  the  story  clipped  in  the  middle  of  its 
course,  without  younor  and  old  thinking  to  them- 
selves: there  is  still  more  comino*.  And  the  Sur- 
geon  had  to  promise  this.  He  had  much  yet  to 
relate  about  the  half-spun  skein  of  two  family  his- 
tories; and  next  time  it  will  probably  be  spun 
longer — if  not  to  the  end,  at  least  to  the  knot, 
which  means  that  the  skein  has  reached  its  right 
length. 


PART  III. —FIRE  AND  WATER. 


INTERLUDE. 


SIX  weeks  elapsed  before  the  Surgeon  again 
saw  gathered  around  him  his  story-loving 
listeners,  large  and  small.  It  had  happened  that 
in  this  interval  an  accident  had  befallen  the  old 
man.  Nearly  everybody  in  this  world,  and  espe- 
cially old  bachelors,  have  some  hobby.  Biick  had 
now  got  it  thoroughly  into  his  head  that  he  ought 
to  have  a  certain  comfort  in  his  old  days.  He  had 
in  the  garret  a  pretty  large  sack  of  feathers,  and 
he  was  accustomed  to  increase  it  every  spring  and 
autumn  by  bird  shooting.  To  what  use  these 
feathers  were  to  be  put,  he  informed  no  one;  when 
asked  about  it,  he  usually  answered: 

"I  will  do  like  Possen  at  the  Wiborg  explosion: 
if  Finland  should  need,  I  will  go  up  in  a  tower 
and  shake  my  feathers  in  the  air;  then  there  will 
be  as  many  soldiers  as  the  sack  has  feathers." 

"  You  talk  like  a  goose,  brother  Andreas,"  re- 
plied Captain  Svanholm,  the  postmaster.  "In  our 
day,  soldiers  must  be  made  of  sterner  stuff.  The 
devil  take  me,  but  I  think  you  consider  us  warriors 
only  chickens." 

"  Yes,"  added  the  Surgeon,  when  the  captain 
was  about  to  continue,  "  I  know  what  you  mean  to 
say:  precisely  like  Fieandt  at  Karstula." 

However,  the  fact  was,  that  one  fine  April  day 
the  Surgeon  had  gone  to  the  bay  on  a  shooting  ex- 

(204) 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  205 

pedition,  with  decoy-ducks.  He  was  accompanied 
by  an  old  one-eyed  corporal  named  Ritsi,  a  name 
meaning  Fritz.  He  had  in  his  youth  been  a 
journeyman,  and  wandered  around  Germany  with 
a  pack  on  his  back;  but  he  brought  nothing  home 
in  it  except  his  name. 

There  was  still  ice  in  portions  of  the  bay,  with 
frequent  openings  of  clear  water.  The  old  men 
strolled  along  the  edge  of  the  ice,  discharging 
their  guns  every  little  while,  but  without  much 
result,  as  both  of  them  had  rather  poor  eyesight. 
It  happened  early  in  the  morning  that  Biick 
thought  he  saw  a  pair  of  fine  ducks  at  the  farther 
edge  of  the  ice,  which  could  only  be  reached  by 
making  a  long  circuit.  He  set  off,  and  sure  enough 
the  ducks  were  there.  He  stole  as  near  as  he 
dared;  he  aimed;  he  fired;  the  ducks  shook  them- 
selves a  little,  but  did  not  stir  from  the  spot. 
"  Those  creatures  are  pretty  tough,"  thought  Back; 
and  he  bent  down,  reloaded,  and  fired  again  at 
thirty  paces,  with  the  same  result.  Feeling  a  little 
flat,  Biick  went  nearer,  and  discovered  for  the  first 
time  that  he  had  been  shooting  his  own  decoy- 
ducks,  which  the  wind  had  driven,  unobserved, 
from  the  inner  edg-e  of  ice  to  the  outer. 

The  old  gentleman  now  resolved  to  return  with 
his  game;  but  this  was  easier  said  than  done.  The 
wind  had  separated  the  ice  where  he  stood  from 
the  ice  which  held  Ritsi,  and  the  loose  block  was 
drifting  toward  the  sea.  The  two  old  friends 
looked  sadly  at  each  other;  it  was  scarcely  a  dozen 
yards  between  them,  and  yet  the  corporal  could  not 
assist  his  friend  and  master,  for  there  was  no  boat 
to  be  had.  Back  was  driven  slowly  but  surely  out 
to  sea. 

"Good-by  now,  comrade!"  cried  the  Surgeon, 


206  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

while  he  could  yet  be  heard  by  the  corporal. 
"  Tell  Svenonius  and  Svanholtn  that  my  will  is 
locked  up  in  the  lower  bureau-drawer  to  the  right. 
Tell  him  to  have  the  bells  runo-  for  inc  next  Sun- 
day.  As  for  the  funeral,  you  need  not  give  your- 
self any  trouble;   I  will  attend  to  that  myself." 

"God  have  mercy!"  cried  the  corpora;;  and 
he  wiped  his  single  eye  with  the  inside  of  his 
jacket-skirt,  and  returned  to  the  town  slowly  and 
tranquilly,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

Now  it  must  be  said,  to  the  honor  of  the  good 
town,  that  the  rest  of  the  Surgeon's  friends  were 
far  from  taking  the  matter  as  coolly  as  the  corporal. 
The  postmaster  cursed  and  swore;  the  school- 
master marched  out  at  the  head  of  his  boys,  and 
the  old  grandmother  quietly  sent  off  a  couple  of 
able-bodied  pilots  in  their  safe  boats  to  cruise 
between  the  blocks  of  ice  and  hunt  for  the  Sur- 
geon. Half  the  town  was  in  motion;  there  was 
a  great  bustle  and  running  about,  those  who  made 
the  most  fuss  accomplishing  the  least. 

Two  days  passed  with  no  trace  of  the  Surgeon; 
on  the  third  day,  the  pilots  came  back  without  hav- 
ing found  their  game.  The  Surgeon  was  now  given 
up  for  lost,  and  they  ceased  to  search  for  him.  There 
was  sincere  mourning  in  the  town;  for  an  heirloom 
like  the  old  man  Biick — the  uncle  of  all  and  confi- 
dant of  all — was  one  of  the  little  town's  household 
guardian  spirits,  without  whom  it  was  impossible 
to  conceive  how  the  general  welfare  could  be 
maintained.  But  what  was  to  be  done?  When, 
on  the  third  Sunday  after  the  unfortunate  bird- 
hunting,  nothing  had  been  heard  from  the  Surgeon, 
not  even  a  cry  or  chirrup,  the  bells  were  rung,  ac- 
cording to  custom,  for  his  poor  soul,  a  fine  eulogy, 
composed  by  Svenonius,  and  interlarded  with  both 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  207 

Latin  and  Hebrew  flowers  of  rhetoric,  was  read  in 
the  church,  and  the  most  wise  town  council  ap- 
pointed a  day  in  the  coining  week  for  taking  an 
inventory  of  the  property  of  tlie  old  comrade  so 
unexpectedly  cut  off. 

I  liope,  however,  that  the  reader,  who  has 
noticed  the  title  of  this  veracious  story,  will  not  be 
alarmed.  It  would  really  be  very  hard  if  the  Sur- 
geon should  be  taken  away  just  now,  when  Regina 
sits  confined  at  Korsholm  under  Ladv  Martha's 
stern  hand,  and  Bertel  yet  bleeds  on  the  battlefield 
of  Liitzen.  And  whit  would  become  of  the  ten- 
der-hearted Meri,  of  the  Storkyro  peasant-king, 
and  so  many  of  the  other  remarkable  persons  of 
this  story?  Patience;  the  Surgeon  had  cer- 
tainly gone  through  worse  experiences  in  his  day; 
it  wasn't  for  nothing^  that  he  was  born  on  the  same 
day  as  Napoleon. 

Everything  was  arranged  for  the  inventory.  A 
surprising  neatness  prevailed  in  Back's  garret- 
chamber;  something  very  unusual  had  occurred 
there:  the  place  had  been  swept  and  scrubbed. 
All  his  effects  were  set  in  order — the  medicine- 
chest  was  dusted,  the  stuffed  birds  were  placed  in 
a  row,  the  sacred  collection  of  eggs  exposed  to 
profane  eyes.  The  silver-headed  Spanish  cane 
stood  gravely  in  the  corner;  the  old  peruke  hung 
with  a  meditative  air  on  its  hook;  the  innermost 
mysteries  of  Back's  bureau — the  locks  of  hair  from 
former  times — were  drawn  fortli  to  be  valued  in 
rubles  and  kopeks,  probably  not  at  a  high  figure. 
All  was  in  order,  as  we  said;  an  alderman  with  an 
official  mien  had  taken  his  seat  at  the  old  oak  table, 
where  a  blank  document,  stamped  with  the  big 
seal  of  the  government,  now  occupied  the  place 
usually  reserved  for  the  Surgeon's  carpenter  tools; 


208  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


a  clerk  sharpened  his  pencil  opposite  the  alderman, 
and  the  old  grandmother,  as  landlady  of  the  house, 
had  presented  herself,  with  moist  eyes,  to  deliver 
up  Back's  property,  as  the  old  man  had  neither 
kith  nor  kin. 

One  thing,  however,  was  still  unopened  and 
unexamined:  it  was  the  worn  sealskin  trunk  under 
the  Surgeon's  bed.  The  alderman's  eyes  occasion- 
ally turned  there  with  a  pious  thought  of  the  per- 
centage he  would  derive  from  the  inheritance;  but 
what  the  trunk  contained,  and  who  would  be  the 
rightful  heir,  no  one  knew. 

It  was  time  to  commence,  Svanholm  and  Sve- 
nonius  were  called  up  as  appraisers.  The  alderman 
coughed  once  or  twice,  assumed  his  most  magiste- 
rial air,  opened  his  mouth,  and  spoke: 

"  Whereas,  it  has  come  to  the  knowledge  of 
the  most  wise  town  council  that  the  former^  Sur- 
geon of  the  High  Crown,  the  before-mentioned 
Andreas  Biick,  while  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  ice- 
bird  shooting  of  birds  on  the  ice,  on  the  aforesaid 
ice  accidentally  lost  his  life  in  a  deadly  way;  and 
whereas,  he  therefore,  although  not  found  in  body, 
must  certainly  be  considered  dead  in  soul,  cor- 
rectly and  according  to  law " 

"  I  would  most  humbly  beg  to  be  excused  from 
that!  "  said  at  this  instant  a  voice  from  the  door; 
and  the  effect  thereof  was  marvellous. 

The  wise  alderman  lost  both  his  wits  and  his 
official  bearing;  he  turned  his  eyes  upward,  and 
his  eloquent  tongue  for  the  first  time  refused  its 
office.  The  clerk,  with  the  name  and  dignity  of 
secretary,  jumped  up  like  a  rocket,  knocking  his 
head  against  the  wall  behind  him,  and  tumbling 
over  the  learned  Svenonius,  who  was  somewhat 
deaf,  and  had   neither  heard  the  awful  voice  nor 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  209 

understood  tiie  slii^litest  thing  about  the  commo- 
tion. The  most  excited  one,  however,  was  the 
brave  Svanholm;  one  could  liave  sworn  tiiat  he  had 
not,  even  at  Karstuhi,  expeiienced  such  an  ordeal. 
He  suddenly  became  as  white  as  a  sheet,  and  vainly 
commanded  his  refractory  left  foot  to  wheel  about. 
The  only  one  who  maintained  any  degree  of  self- 
possession  was  the  old  grandmother;  she  put  her 
spectacles  on  her  nose,  went  straight  up  to  tlie  new- 
comer, and  shook  her  respected  head  dubiously,  as  if 
to  say  (what  she  did  not  say,  however),  tint  it  was 
very  unbecoming  in   corpses  to  peep  about. 

But  old  Biick — for  who  else  could  it  be? — was 
not  at  all  daunted.  His  feelings  were  of  an  en- 
tirely different  kind.  When  he  saw  his  dear  old 
chamber  so  shamefully  fixed  up,  his  precious  effects 
so  glaringly  paraded,  and  the  officious  alderman 
actively  engaged  in  what  Back  considered  none  of 
his  business,  he  was  seized,  excusably  enough,  with 
righteous  indignation,  took  the  representatives  of 
the  law  by  the  neck,  one  after  the  other,  and  threw 
them  without  ceremony  from  the  room.  Then 
came  the  turn  of  brother  Svenonius,  who  was  also 
not  spared;  and  finally  of  brother  Svanholm, 
who,  likewise,  before  he  could  utter  a  word,  found 
himself  rolling  his  whole  length  down  the  stairs. 
All  this  was  done  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  The 
place  was  now  cleared  of  all  except  the"  grand- 
mother. When  Biick  met  the  old  lady's  mildly 
reproachful  glance,  he  came  to  his  senses,  and  felt 
ashamed. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  he,  "you  must  not  take  it 
ill,  cousin;  I  shall  teach  sweepers  and  dusters  to 
disorder  my  room.  .  ,  .  Be  so  kind  as  to  take 
a  seat,  dear  cousin.  But  it  is  enough  to  provoke 
a  stone,  to  see  such  nonsense.  Just  look  how  these 
O  9* 


210  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

rog-ues  have  scrubbed  my  room  and  dusted  all  my 
birds!     It  is  scandalous!  " 

"  Dear  cousin,"  interrupted  the  grandmother,  at 
once  vexed  and  pleased;  "I  am  the  one  to  be 
blamed  for  all  that;  we  couldn't  possibly  think  but 
tliat  you  had  been  drowned." 

"Drowned  indeed!"  muttered  the  Surjreon. 
"I  will  tell  you,  cousin,  a  bad  penny  is  not  got  rid 
of  so  easily.  It  is  perfectly  true  that  I  floated 
around  on  that  miserable  block  of  ice  three  whole 
days  and  nights.  It  wasn't  exactly  a  warm  bed 
and  well-spread  table,  but  it  answered.  I  had  my 
old  gun  with  me,  and  managed  to  shoot  a  venture- 
some seal.  It  was  pretty  oily,  I  can  assure  you, 
but  I  thought:  'better  lack  bread  than  wit.'  ]  had 
a  tinder-box,  and  salt  too;  so  I  made  a  fire  of  my 
game-bag,  and  fried  myself  a  beef-steak.  On  the 
fourth  day  J  drifted  to  firm  ice  at  West  Bothnia, 
and  inarched  ashore.  'Now  it  is  time  to  start  for 
liome,'  thought  I;  so  I  sold  my  gun,  and  started, 
althous^h  the  sledo:ing  was  bad  enough.  And  I 
tell  you  what  it  is,  cousin,  they  would  been  spared 
from  upsetting  my  room,  and  sticking  their  noses 
into  my  things,  had  not  the  Swedes  raised  the 
charges  more  than  four  times  what  they  were  when 
I  was  young.  *  Before  I  got  to  Haparanda,  my 
pnrse  was  empty.  Then  I  thought:  '  let  the  col- 
legium 7nedicum  go  to  the  devil;'  and  so  I  began 
my  old  practice  with  the  lancet  and  ^essentia 
c?«</cis,' as  I  went  along;  and  all  the  old  grannies 
.  .  .  God  bless  you,  I  thought  you  were  going 
to  sneeze!  .  .  .  and  all  the  old  grannies  were 
ainnzed  to  see  old  times  come  again.  In  this  man- 
ner I  managed  to  reach  home  ...  a  little  too 
late,  but  still  in  time  to  throw  my  uninvited  guests 
down-stairs." 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  211 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  the  Surgeon  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  forgive  his  friends  for  invading  iiis  peaceful 
domains.  Had  they  robbed  him  of  his  treasures, 
or  disgraced  his  name,  he  could  have  pardoned 
them;  but  to  put  his  room  in  order  was  more  than 
human  magnanimity  could  excuse!  Little  by  little 
the  storm  was  allayed  through  the  old  grandmother's 
wise  mediation;  and  so  the  day  came  when  the 
reconciliation  was  celebrated  with  a  third  story.  It 
is  true  that  some  simple-minded  people  still  looked 
upon  the  Surgeon  as  a  gliost;  the  council  doubted 
his  right  to  live  when  he  had  been  legally  declared 
dead;  the  postmaster  swore  by  a  thousand  devi.s 
over  his  sore  back,  which  still  bore  marks  of  the 
encounter  with  brother  Back;  Svenonius  sighed 
over  a  hole  in  his  twenty-years-old  black  coat, 
which,  in  honor  of  the  solemn  occasion,  he  had 
worn  at  this  neck-breaking  reunion.  But  the  old 
grandmother  smiled  just  as  mildly;  Anne  Sophie 
was  as  gentle  as  ever;  the  little  folks  were  as  up- 
roarious; and  thus  it  happened  that  the  sunshine 
scattered  the  mists,  and  the  horizon  cleared  for  the 
fortunes  of  the  imprisoned  Regina. 

"  My  dear  friends,"  began  the  Surgeon,  "  it  may 
seem  strange  to  you  that  1  should  call  this  story 
'Fire  and  Water.'  All  that  concerns  'The 
Kino-'s  Rina:'  and  how  'The  Sword  and  the 
Plough'  fell  into  strife,  you  can  understand  with- 
out puzzling  your  brains.  But  now  some  of  you 
probably  think  that  I  intend  to  divert  you  with 
natural  science,  since  I  let  the  elements  figure  as  a 
title.  That  would  certainly  be  well  enough;  1  have 
a  great  respect  for  nature,  but  I  hold  the  opinion 
that  in  a  story  human  beings  are  the  main  thing. 
If  we  are  looking  at  pictures,  we  can  with  hearty 
pleasure  regard  a  fruit-piece  or  a  game-piece;  but 


212  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

SO  far  as  I  understand,  figure-painting,  with  fine 
human  forms,  is  superior.  1  will  tell  you  at  once 
that  I  do  not  by  any  means  intend  to  describe  con- 
flagrations and  deluges,  but  I  have  chosen  my  title 
from  the  fact  that  human  dispositions  sometimes 
have  a  remarkable  resemblance  to  the  elements — 
some  to  tire,  some  to  water,  some  even  to  light  air. 
I  intend  to  tell  you  about  four  persons,  of  whom 
two  belong  to  the  first  sort  and  two  to  the  second. 
This  title  bv  no  means  savs  all  that  mi^ht  be  said, 
for  most  titles  have  the  fault  of  expressing  but  one 
of  many  sides.  I  also  thought  of  calling  this  part 
'  The  Coat  of  x\rms,'  when  I  realized  that  it  could 
with  just  as  much  reason  be  called  '  The  Axe'.  I 
might  have  frightened  you  with  the  terrible  title 
of  'The  Curse';  but  when  1  came  to  think  of  it, 
I  found  that  it  could  just  as  well  be  called  'The 
Blessing'.  Consequently  you  will  have  to  be  con- 
tented with  the  elements. 

"  I  have  now  said  all  that  I  desired  in  explana- 
tion, and  will  leave  you  to  guess  the  rest." 


CHAPTER    I. 

SPOILS    FROM    THE    BATTLE-FIELD. 

IT  is  necessary  the  reader  should  remember, 
what  has  already  been  explained,  that  all  the 
events  described  in  the  narrative  of  '"The  Sword 
and  the  Plough "  occurred  before  the  battle  of 
Lutzen,  which  ended  Part  I,  "  The  King's  Ring." 

Returnino:  now  to  Liitzen  and  the  6th  of  Novem- 
ber,  1632,  we  must  forget  for  awhile  that  "The 
Sword  and  the  Plough  "  ever  existed,  and  imagine 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  213 

that  we  still  stand  by  the  bloody  bier  of  the  great 
hero-kins:,  where,  the  day  after  the  battle,  he  lay 
embalmed  in  the  village  of  Meuchen. 

It  was  a  glorious  but  terrible  sight  when  the 
Pappenheimers  made  their  charge  upon  the  Finns 
on  the  east  side  of  the  river  Rippach.  Mail-clad, 
irresistible,  the  cuirassiers  descended  upon  Stal- 
handske,  whose  Finnish  troopers  reeled  under  this 
crushing  attack:  their  horses,  weary  from  the  long 
conflict,  recoiled,  fell  backwards,  and  for  a  time 
gave  way.  But  Stalhandske  rallied  them  again, 
man  against  man,  horse  against  horse  ;  they  fought 
with  their  last  strength,  indifferent  to  death  ;  and 
friends  and  enemies  were  mixed  together  in  bloody 
confusion.  Here  fell  Pappenheim  ;  here  fell  his 
bravest  men  ;  half  of  Stalhandske's  cavalry  were 
trampled  under  the  horses'  hoofs,  and  yet  the  strife 
rao-ed  without  interruption  until  twilight. 

At  Stalhandske's  side  rode  Bertel  ;  and  so  it 
happened  that  he  met  Pappenheim.  The  youth  of 
twenty  was  not  able  to  cope  with  this  arm  of  steel; 
a  blow  of  the  brave  general's  long  sword  struck 
Bertel  across  the  helmet  with  such  crushing  force 
that  his  eyes  were  blinded  and  he  became  insen- 
sible. But  in  falling  he  unconsciously  grasped  his 
faithful  horse,  Lappen,  by  the  mane,  and  I.appen, 
confused  by  the  tumult,  galloped  away;  while  his 
master,  with  one  foot  in  the  stirrup  and  his  hands 
convulsively  twisted  in  the  mane,  was  dragged  with 
him. 

When  Bertel  opened  his  eyes,  he  was  in  dense 
darkness.  He  remembered  vaguely  the  adventures 
of  the  hot  struggle;  the  last  thing  he  there  saw 
was  Pappenheim's  lifted  sword.  The  thought  en- 
tered his  mind  that  he  was  now  dead  anci  lying  in 
his  grave.     He  put  his  hand  to   his   heart,  it  beat; 


214  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

he  bit  his  finger,  it  pained  him.  He  realized  that 
he  was  still  living,  but  how  and  where  it  was  im- 
possible to  guess.  He  stretched  out  his  hand  and 
picked  up  some  straw.  Under  him  he  felt  the  damp 
grodnd,  above  him  the  empty  air.  He  tried  to  raise 
himself  up,  but  his  head  was  as  heavy  as  lead.  It 
still  felt  the  weight  of  Pappenheim's  sword. 

Then  he  heard  not  far  from  him  a  voice,  which, 
half  complaining,  half  mocking,  uttered  the  follow- 
ing words  in  Swedish  : 

"  Ghosts  and  grenades  !  Not  a  drop  of  vpine  ! 
Those  scoundrelly  Wallachians  have  stolen  my 
flask;  the  miserable  hen-thieves  !  Holloa,  Turk  or 
Jew — it  is  all  tlie  same — bring  here  a  drop  of 
wine  ! " 

"  Is  that  you,  Larsson?"  said  Bertel.  in  a  faint 
voice;  for  his  tongue  was  half  paralyzed  by  a  burn- 
ing tiiirst. 

"  What  Sort  of  a  marmot  is  it  that  whispers 
my  name?"  responded  his  neighbor,  in  the  dark- 
ness. "Hurrah,  boys!  loose  reins  and  a  brisk  gal- 
lop !  Wiien  you  have  emptied  your  pistols,  fling 
them  to  the  devil,  and  slash  away  with  swords  ! 
Cleave  their  skulls,  the  brutes;  peel  them  like  tur- 
nips. Beat  them,  grind  them  to  powder!  The  king 
has  fallen  ....  Devils  and  heroes,  what  a  king! . . . . 
To-day  we  shall  bleed;  to-day  we  shall  die;  but 
first  we  must  be  revenged.  That's  the  way,  boys! 
Hurrah!  ....  Pitch  in.  East  Bothnians!  " 

"Larsson,"  repeated  Bertel;  but  his  comrade 
did  not  hear  him.  He  continued  in  his  delirium 
to  lead  his  Finnish  bovs  in  the  conflict. 

After  awhile  a  streak  of  the  late  autumn 
morning  dawned  in  through  the  window  of  the 
miserable  hut  whore  Bertel  lay.  He  could  now 
distinguish  the  straw  which  was  strewn    over  the 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  215 


bare  srrouiid;    and  ou  the  straw  lie   saw  two  men 
asleep. 

The  door  opened;  a  couple  of  wild  bearded  men 
entered,  and  pushed  the  slumbereis rudely  with  the 
butts  of  their  g-uiis. 

"  Raus  I  "  cried  they,  in  Low  Dutch;  "  reveille 
has  sounded! " 

And  outside  the  hut  was  heard  the  well-known 
trumpet-blast,  which  at  that  time  was  the  usual 
signal  to  break  camp. 

"  They  may  spear  me  like  a  frog,"  muttered  one 
of  the  men,  sulkily,  "  if  I  know  what  our  reveretid 
father  intends  to  do  with  these  unbelieving  dogs. 
He  might  as  well  give  them  a  passport  to  the  arch- 
fiend, their  lord  and  master." 

"  Blockhead!  "  retorted  the  other;  "  do  you  not 
know  that  the  heretic  king's  death  is  to  be  cele- 
brated with  great  pomp  and  state  at  Ingolstadt  ? 
The  reverend  father  intends  to  hold  a  grand  auto- 
da-fe  in  honor  of  the  solemn  occasion.  " 

The  two  sleepers  rose,  half  awake;  and  Bertel 
recognized,  by  the  faint  morning  light,  the  little 
thick-set  Larsson,  of  the  East  Bothnians,  and  his 
own  faithful  Pekka.  But  there  was  no  time  for 
explanations.  All  three  were  led  out,  bound,  and 
packed  into  a  cart;  after  which  the  train,  consisting 
of  a  long  line  of  wounded  men  and  baggage-wag- 
ons, under  guard  of  the  Croats,  set  itself  slowly  in 
motion. 

Bertel  now  realized  that  he  and  his  countrymen 
were  prisoners  of  the  Imperialists.  His  memory 
soon  cleared,  and  he  learned  from  his  companions 
in  misfortune  how  it  had  all  happened.  When  the 
faithful  Lappen  felt  the  reins  loose,  he  galloped 
with  his  unconscious  rider  back  to  the  camp.  But 
a   swarm   of  the  rapacious  Croats  were  here,  com- 


216  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

mitting  their  depredations,  and  when  they  saw  a 
Swedish  officer  dragg-ed  half-dead  after  the  horse, 
they  took  liim  with  them  in  tlie  liope  of  a  good 
ransom.  Pekka,  who  would  not  desert  his  master, 
was  taken  prisoner  at  the  same  time.  Larsson,  for 
his  part,  had,  at  the  Pappenheimers'  attack,  ven- 
tured too  far  among  the  enemy,  received  a  pike 
thrust  in  the  shoulder  and  a  wound  in  the  arm, 
and  being  unable  to  cut  his  wav  through,  had  been 
borne  along  by  the  stream.  Who  had  conquered, 
Larsson  did  not  know  with  certainty. 

It  was  now  the  third  day  after  the  battle;  they 
had  marched  in  a  southerly  direction  a  day  and 
night  without  stopping,  and  then  restedafew  hours 
in  a  deserted  and  ])lund('red  village. 

"  Cursed  pack  !  "  exclaimed  the  little  captain, 
whose  jovial  disposition  did  not  abandon  him 
even  in  the  jolting  peasant  cart;  "  if  only  they  hadn't 
stolen  my  flask,  so  that  we  might  have  drank  Fin- 
land's health  together  !  But  these  Croats  are  a 
thieving  set,  compared  to  which  our  gypsies  at 
home  are  innocent  angels.  1  wish  I  had  a  couple 
of  hundred  of  them  to  hang  on  the  ramparts  of 
Korsholm,  as  they  hang  petticoats  on  the  walls  of 
a  Finnish  garret." 

In  the  meantime  the  march  continued,  with  brief 
halts,  for  three  or  four  days,  not  without  great  suf- 
fering and  discomfort  for  the  wounded,  who,  badly 
bandaged,  were  hindered  by  their  fetters  from  as- 
sisting each  other.  In  the  beginning  they  trav- 
eled through  a  plundered  region,  where  with  diffi- 
culty they  obtained  the  slightest  refreshment,  and 
where  the  population  everywhere  took  to  flight  be- 
fore the  dr3aded  Croats.  But  thev  soon  came  to 
richer  sections,  where  the  Catholic  inhabitants 
showed  themselves  only  to  curse  the    heretics  and 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  217 

exult  over  their  king's  fall.  The  whole  Catholic 
world  shared  this  rejoicing.  It  is  stated  that  in 
Madrid  brilliant  spectacles  were  performed,  in 
which  Gustav  Adolf,  another  dragon, was  conquered 
by  Wallenstein,  anotlier  St.  George. 

After  seven  days'  tiresome  journey,  the  cart 
with  the  captive  Finns  drove,  late  one  evening, 
over  a  clattering  draw-bridge,  and  stopped  in  a 
narrow  castle  yard.  The  prisoners,  still  disabled 
from  their  wounds,  were  led  out  and  taken  up  two 
crumbling  flights  of  stairs  into  a  turret  room  in  the 
form  of  a  half-circle.  It  seemed  to  Bertel  as  if  he 
had  seen  this  place  before;  but  darkness  and  fa- 
tigue did  not  allow  him  to  clearly  distinguish 
objects.  The  stars  shone  in  through  the  grated 
windows.  The  prisoners  were  refreshed  with  a  cup 
of   wine,  and  Larsson  exclaimed,  joyously  : 

"  I  wager  that  the  thieves  have  stolen  their 
wine  from  our  cellars,  while  we  lay  in  Wurtzburg; 
for  better  stuff  I  never  drank!  " 

"Wurtzburg!  "  exclaimed  Bertel,  thoughtfully. 
"Regina!"  added  he,  almost  unconsciously. 

"And  the  wine-cellar!  "  sighed  Larsson,  mim- 
icking him.  "I  will  tell  you  something,  my  dear 
boy: 

'  The  biggest  fool  in  the  world 
Is  he  who  believes  a  girl; 
When  love,  the  heart-thief,  comes  to  harry. 
Espouse  the  girl,  but  the  wine-cup  marry.' 

"  As  far  as  Regina  is  concerned,  the  black-eyed 
maiden  sits  and  knits  stockings  at  Korsholm.  Yes, 
ves,  I^adv  Miirtha  is  not  one  of  those  who  sio-h  in 
the  moonlight.  Since  we  last  met  1  have  had  news 
from  Wasa  through  the  jolly  sergeant,  Bengt  Kris- 
terson.  He  had  fought  with  your  father,  he  said. 
10 


218  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

There  is  no' nonsense  about  the  old  man;  he  car- 
ried Bencrt  out  at  arm's-leno^th,  and  threw  him 
down  the  steps  there  at  your  home  in  Storkyro. 
Beiifft  swore  he  would  stuff  the  old  man  and  twelve 
of  his  men  into  the  windmill,  and  grind  them  to 
^[•roats;  but  Meri  begged  them  off.  Brave  fellow, 
Beiiort  Kristerson! — fio-hts  like  a  dragon  and  lies 
like  a  skipper.     Your  health!" 

"What  else  did  you  hear  from  East  Bothnia?" 
asked  Bertel,  who,  with  a  youth's  bashfulness, 
colored  at  the  thought  of  revealing  to  the  prosaic 
friend  his  life's  secret,  his  love  for  the  dark-eyed, 
beautiful  and  unhappy  Regina  von  Emnieritz. 

"  Not  much  news,  except  scant  harvests,  heavy 
war-taxes,  and  conscriptions.  The  old  men  on  the 
farm,  your  father  and  mine,  squabble  as  usual,  and 
make  up  again.  Meri  pines  for  you,  and  sings 
sorrowful  songs.  Do  you  remember  Katri? — splen- 
did girl;  round  as  a  turnip,  red  as  mountain-ash 
berries,  and  soft  about  the  chin  as  a  lump  of  but- 
ter. Your  health,  my  boy! — she  has  run  away  with 
%  soldier!  " 

"Nothing  else?"  said  Bertel,  abstractedly. 

"  Nothing  else!     What  the  d 1  do  you  want 

to  know,  when  you  don't  care  for  the  most  buxom 
ffirl  in  all  Storkvro?  'e/a,  noch  etvms^  savs  the 
German.  There  has  been  a  great  fray  at  Korsholm, 
The  recruits  got  it  into  their  heads  that  Lady 
Regina  had  tried  to  kill  the  king  with  witchcraft, 
so  they  stormed  Korsholm,  and  burned  the  gii'l 
alive.  Cursedly  jolly! — here's  to  the  heretics!  We 
also  know  how  to  get  up  autos-da-fe'.'''' 

Bertel  started  up,  forgetting  his  wounds;  but 
pain  overpowered  him.  Without  a  sound,  he  sank 
faintins:  in  Larsson's  arms. 

The    honest    captain    became   both   angry  and 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  219 

troubled.  While  he  bathed  Bertel's  temples  with 
the  wine  left  in  the  tankard,  and  finally  brought 
him  to  life  again,  he  gave  vent  to  his  feelings  in 
the  following  words  —  crescendo  from  piano  to 
forte,  from  minor  to  major: 

"  There,  there,  Bertei  .  .  .  what  ails  you? 
Does  the  devil  ride  you,  boy?  Are  you  in  love 
with  the  girl?  Well,  well,  calm  yourself.  Faint 
like  a  lady's  maid?  Courage! — did  I  say  they  had 
burned  her?  No,  my  boy,  she  was  only  roasted  a 
little,  according  to  what  Bengt  Kristerson  says,  and 
afterward  she  scratched  both  eyes  out  of  Lady 
Martha  and  climbed  like  a  squirrel  up  on  top  of  the 
castle.  Such  things  happen  every  day  in  war. 
Well,  you  have  got  your  eyes  open  at  last.  So 
you  are  still  alive,  you  milk-baked  wheat-cake! 
Are  you  not  ashamed,  boy,  to  be  like  a  piece  of 
china?  You  a  soldier?  A  pretty  soldier  you  are! 
mUzdonnenoetterkreutspappenheim!  you  are  a  po- 
made-pot, and  no  soldier!  Curse  it!  now  the 
tankard  is  empty!" 

The  little  round  warrior  would  undoubtedly 
have  continued  to  give  free  reins  to  his  bad  humor, 
especially  as  he  had  no  longer  any  consolation  in 
the  tankard,  had  not  the  door  opened  and  a  female 
form  stepped  in  among  the  piisoners.  At  this 
sight,  the  captain's  puffy  although  now  somewhat 
pale  face  brightened  perceptibly.  Bertei  was 
pushed  aside,  and  Larsson  leaned  forward,  so  as  to 
see  better;  for  the  light  of  the  single  lamp  was 
quite  dim.  But  the  result  of  his  survey  did  not 
seem  especially  satisfactory. 

"iV  nun!     Ah,  by  Heaven   ..     .     .     to  convert 
us!  " 

"  Peace  be  with  you,"  sounded  a  youthful  voice, 
of  fresh    and    agreeable    tone,    from    under    the 


230  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


veil.  "I  am  sent  here  by  the  reverend  prioress 
of  the  convent  of  Our  Lady,  to  bind  your 
wounds,  and,  if  it  is  the  will  of  the  saints,  to  heal 
them." 

"Upon  my  honor,  beautiful  friend,  I  am  very 
much  obli,^ed;  let  us  then  become  a  little  better 
acquainted,"  replied  the  captain,  somewhat  more 
mildly  disposed,  and  stretched  out  his  hand  with 
the  intention  of  raising  the  nun's  veil.  Instantly 
the  latter  drew  back  a  few  steps;  and  just  then 
two  soldier.-,  of  forbidding  aspect,  appeared  at  the 
door. 

"Ah,  I  understand!"  exclaimed  Larsson, 
startled.  "  The  devil!  what  proud  nuns  they  have 
here!  When  I  was  in  Franconia,  at  Wurtzburg,  I 
used  to  get  at  least  half  a  dozen  kisses  a  day  from 
the  young  sisters  in  the  convent;  for  such  sins  are 
never  refused  absolution.  Well,"  continued  the 
brave  captain,  when  the  nun  still  lingered,  hesitat- 
ing, at  the  door,  "  your  reverence  must  not  take 
offence  at  a  soldier's  freedom  of  speech.  Nun- 
quam  Jiemo  no  sit  ur  caballerus,  ^?iy?>  the  Spaniard; 
an  honest  soldier  is  born  a  gallant.  Your  reverence 
sees  that  I,  although  an  unbelieving  heretic,  can 
talk  Latin  like  a  true  monk.  When  we  were  at 
Munich  I  lived  in  intimate  friendship  with  a  gen- 
uine Bavarian  nun,  twenty-seven  years  old,  brown 
eyes,  Roman  nose      ..." 

"Hold  your  tongue!"  whispered  Bertel,  impa- 
tiently.    "You  will  drive  the  nun  away." 

"  I  haven't  said  a  word.  Walk  in,  your  rever- 
ence; don't  be  frightened.  I  wager  it  is  a  good 
while  since  your  reverence  was  twenty-seven. 
Fosito.,  as  the  Frenchman  says,  that  your  reverence 
is  an  old  granny." 

The  nun  returned  in  silence,  accompanied  by 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  221 

two  sisters-in-waiting,  and  began  to  examine  the 
wound  on  Bertel's  liead,  which  had  been  badly 
dressed.  A  delicate  white  hand  drew  out  a  pair  of 
scissors  and  cut  oiF  the  youth's  hair  at  each  side  of 
the  broad  mark  left  by  Pappenheim's  sword.  Within 
twenty  minutes  Bertel's  wounds  were  dressed  by 
a  skilful  hand.  The  youth,  touched  by  this  com- 
passion, raised  the  nun's  hand  to  his  lips  and  kissed 
it. 

"  Upon  my  honor,  beautiful  matron,"  cried  the 
voluble  captain,  "I  feel  half  inclined  to  be  jealous 
of  my  friend,  who  is  fifteen  years  younger  than  I. 
Now  deign  to  stretch  out  your  gentle  hand  and 
plaster  this  brave  arm,  which  has  conquered  the 
piety  of  so  many  pious  sisters." 

The  nun,  still  without  speaking,  began  to  undo 
the  ragged  scarf  which  covered  Larssoii's  wounds. 
Her  hand,  in  doing  this,  happened  to  touch  his. 

'■'■  Potz  donnenceiier I ^'  burst  out  the  captain, 
with  a  connoisseur's  surprise.  "What  a  fine,  soft 
little  hand!  I  beg  your  pardon,  amiable  lady  doc- 
tor; ex  tingua  leonem,  says  Saint  Homer,  one  of 
the  fathers  of  the  church  .  .  .  for  I  also  have 
studied  the  fathers  of  the  church  .  .  .  that  is 
to  say,  in  good  Swedish,  by  the  paw  one  knows  the 
lion.  I  wager  ten  bottles  of  old  Rhine  wine 
against  a  cast-off  stirrup,  that  this  little  white  hand 
is  much  better  fitted  to  caress  a  cavalier's  cheek 
than  to  finger  rosaries  night  and  day." 

The  nun  drew  her  hand  away  for  an  instant,  and 
seemed  to  hesitate.  The  gallant  captain  began  to 
fear  the  consequences  of  his  gallantry.  "  I  will 
say  nothing  more;  1  am  as  silent  as  a  Carthusian 
monk.  But  I  do  say,  that  one  who  dares  to  pre- 
sume that  such  a   soft  hand   belongs  to   an    old 


222  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

granny  .  .  .  well,  well,  your  lovely  reverence 
hears  that  I  am  silent." 

"  Tempus  est  consummatum^  itur  in  missam,''^ 
said  a  sepulchral  voice  at  the  door,  and  the  nun 
hastened  to  finish  dressing  the  wound.  In  a  few 
moments  the  two  prisoners  were  again  alone. 

"  I  have  heard  that  voice  before,"  remarked 
Bertel,  thoughtfully.  "  Are  we  then  surrounded 
by  nothing  but  mysteries?" 

"  Bah!  "  replied  the  captain,  "it  was  a  bald- 
headed,  jealous  monk.  Bless  me,  what  a  sweet 
little  hand! " 


CHAPTER  II. 

TWO    OLD    ACQUAINTANCES. 

THE  following  morning,  as  the  late  autumn  sun 
sent  its  first  rays  into  the  turret-room,  Bertel 
arose  and  went  to  take  a  look  out  of  the  narrow 
grated  window.  It  was  a  glorious  prospect.  Be- 
low him  wound  a  magnificent  stream,  on  whose 
further  shore  lay  a  town  with  thirty  spires,  and 
beyond  were  seen  a  number  of  still  verdant  vine- 
yards. 

At  the  first  glance,  Bertel  recognized  Wiirtz- 
burg.  Castle  Marienburg,  where  the  prisoners  were 
cotifined,  had,  at  the  Swedes'  re'treat,  fallen  again 
into  the  bishop's  hands;  but  on  account  of  the  in- 
security of  the  times,  his  princely  grace  had  not 
returned  there  himself,  but  remained  most  of  the 
time  in  Vienna.  The  castle  had  suifered  much 
from  the  last  conquest  and  the  attendant  plunder- 
ing; one  tower  had  been  destroyed,  and  the   moat 


FIRE  AMD   WATER.  223 

was  filled  up  in  several  places.  At  present  there 
were  only  fifty  men  in  the  garrison,  but  there  were 
sick  and  wounded,  nursed  by  the  sisters  of  charity 
from  tiie  convent  in  the  town.  When  Bertel  in- 
spected his  prison  more  closely,  he  thought  he  re- 
coo-nized  Regina's  chamber,  the  same  one  where 
the  beautiful  lady  with  her  maid  contemplated  the 
strife,  and  where  the  Swedish  cannon-ball  shattered 
the  image  of  the  saint  in  the  window.*  This  dis- 
covery seemed  beyond  value  to  the  romantic  youth. 
Here  had  she  stood,  the  wondrously  beautiful  un- 
happy daughter  of  the  prince;  here  had  she  slum- 
bered the  last  night  before  the  assault.  It  was  in 
Bertel's  eyes  a  sacred  place;  when  he  pressed  his 
lips  to  the  cold  walls,  he  fancied  that  he  kissed  the 
traces  of  Regina's  tears. 

Like  a  flash,  a  strange  thought  ran  through  his 
mind.  If  the  nun  who  visited  them  yesterday 
could  have  been  a  disguised  princess  !  .  .  if  the 
delicate  white  hand  belonged  to — Regina  !  That 
would  be  a  miracle,  but  .  .  .  love  believes  in 
miracles.  Bertel's  heart  beat  violently.  The 
gentle  nurse's  care  had  already  greatly  improved 
his  neglected  wounds.  He  felt  twice  as  strong 
already. 

His  companions  in  misfortune,  tired  from  the 
journey,  were  still  asleep.  Then  the  door  opened 
softly,  and  with  noiseless  step  the  nun  entered,  to 
bring  the  wounded  men  a  healing  draught.  Bertel 
felt  his  head  swim.  Overcome  by  his  violent  emo- 
tion, he  fell  on  his  knees  before  her. 

"  Your  name,  you  angel  of  mercy,  who  remem- 
ber the  imprisoned  !  "  exclaimed  he.  "Tell  me 
your  name,  reveal  your  face  !     .    .    .    Ah,  I  should 

*  Here  the  Surgeon  seems  to  have  forgotten  that  Regina's  room  was  In 
the  tower  shot  down  at  tl*e  seige. —  The  A  utiior. 


224  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

recognize  you  among  a  thousand.  .  .  .  You  are 
Regina  herself  !  " 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  same  fresh 
voice  which  Bertel  had  heard  yesterday.  It  was 
not  Regina's  voice,  and  yet  it  was  a  very  familiar 
one;  but  whose  ? 

Bertel  sprang  up,  and  snatched  the  veil  from 
the  nun's  head.  Before  him  stood  the  pretty  and 
gentle  Katclien,  with  a  smiling  face.  Bertel 
stepped  back,  bewildered. 

"]mp\ident  one!"  said  KStchen,  and  hastily 
covered  her  face.  "  T  had  desired  to  have  you 
under  my  charge,  and  you  force  me  to  leave  my 
place  to  another." 

Kiitchen  disappeared.  That  same  day,  in  the 
afternoon,  a  nyn  again  entered  the  room.  Larsson 
delivered  an  eloquent  harangue,  raised  her  hand 
to  his  lips,  and  pressed  upon  it  a  resounding  kiss. 
Then  he  swore  by  a  million  devils,  he  had  kissed 
an  old  withered  hand,  whose  surface  was  like  hun- 
dred-year-old parchment. 

"  Verily,  my  dear  Bertel,"  said  the  deceived 
captain,  with  philosophic  resignation,  "there  are 
things  in  nature  which  must  eternally  remain  an 
enigma  to  human  sagacity.  This  hand,  for  ex- 
ample .  .  .  ma/iws,  mana^  manum.,  hand,  as  the 
old  Roman  so  truly  expressed  himself  .  .  .  this 
hand,  my  friend,  would  undoubtedly  occupy  a  con- 
spicuous place  in  the  Greek  poet  Ovid's  Metamor- 
phoses, which  we  formerlv  studied  in  the  cathedral 
school  at  Abo,  the  time  my  father  wanted  to  make 
me  a  priest.  Yesterday  1  could  have  pledged  my 
soul  that  it  was  a  delicate  lady's  hand;  and  to-day 
I  will  let  them  shave  me  into  a  monk  if  this  hand 
docs  not  belong  to  a  seventy-year-old  washerwo- 
man.     Sic  unde  uhi  apud  unquani  post,  as  they 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  225 

expressed  themselves  in  olden  times.  That  is  to 
say  :  so  can  a  pretty  girl  become  a  witch  before 
any  one   knows  it." 

The  prisoners'  wounds  healed  rapidly  under  the 
careful  nursino-  of  the  nuns.  The  dark  autumn 
storm  roared  around  the  castle  turrets,  and  the 
heavy  rains  beat  against  the  small  windows.  The 
vineyards  withered;  a  tln'ck  and  chilling-  mist  arose 
from  the  Main,  and  obscured  the  view  of  the 
town. 

''  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer,"  grumbled  Larsson. 
"  These  wretches  give  us  neither  wine  nor  dice. 
And  may  Saint  Brita  forgive  me,  but  the  devil 
may  kiss  their  nuns;  I  will  neither  kiss  hand  nor 
mouth,  for  habeo  multum  respecUmi  pro  tnatvoni- 
bics, — I  have  much  respect  for  old  women.  No,  I 
can't  stand  it,  ]  will  jump  out  of  the  window  .  .  ." 
"  Do  it,"  said  Bertel,  provoked. 
"  No,  I  will  not  jump  out  of  the  window,"  re- 
joined the  captain.  "No  my  friend,  micus  ameus^ 
as  we  used  to  express  ourselves.  ...  I  shall  in- 
stead honor  this  fellow-prisoner  of  ours  with  a  game 
of  pitch  and  toss." 

And  the  captain,  fertile  in  resources,  was  pleas- 
ed to  honor  Pekka  for  the  thirtieth  time  with  the 
monotonous  game  which  constituted  his  diversion, 
and  which  was  played  with  a  six  ore  piece  of 
Charles  X. 

"  Tell  me,  rather,"  resumed  Bertel,  "what  they 
are  building  there  on  the  square  in  Wurtzburg 
opposite  us?" 

"  A  tavern,"  answered  Larsson.     "  Heads  !" 
"  Tt  seems  to  me  to  look  more  like  a  pyre." 
"Tails!"      repeated      Larsson,      mechanically. 
"  Plague  on  it,  what  ill-luck  I  have!      That  cursed 
P 


226  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Litningo  peasant  wins  from  me  horse,  saddle,  and 
stirrups." 

"  The  first  morning  of  our  imprisonment,"  con- 
tinued Bertel,  "1  heard  them  say  something  about 
an  auto-da  fe\  in  celebration  of  the  battle  of  Liitzen. 
What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"  1  ?  What  should  I  have  against  burning  a 
dozen  witches,  much  to  our  amusement  ?" 

"  But  if  it  now  concern  us?  If  they  were  only 
waiting  for  the   bishop's  arrival?" 

Larsson  opened  his  small  gray  eyes,  and  stroked 
his  goatee.  "  BUtzdonnerkreutzl  .  .  .  the 
miserable  Jesuits!  They  would  roast  us  like  tur- 
keys— us,  the  conquerors  of  the  holy  Roman  em- 
pire! .  .  It  seems  to  me,  friend  Bertel,  that  in 
such  desperate  circumstances,  in  rebus  desperatus, 
an  honest  soldier  could  not  be  blamed  if  he  should 
quietly  steal  away — for  examjole,  through  the  win- 
dow    .     .     ." 

"  It  is  seventy  feet  above  the  Main,  and  the 
flood  is  straight  beneath." 

"The  door?"  .  .  .  continued  the  captain, 
inquiringly. 

"It  is  guarded  night  and  day  by  two  armed 
men." 

The  honest  captain  sank  into  melancholy  reflec- 
tions. Time  passed;  it  became  afternoon;  it  be- 
came night.  The  nun  with  the  evening  repast  was 
not  heard  from. 

"  Festivities  begin  with  fasting,"  muttered  the 
captain,  gruffly.  "  May  I  turn  into  a  fish  if  I  don't 
wring  the  neck  of  our  neglectful  nun  the  first  time 
she  shows  herself." 

At  that  instant  the  door  opened  and  the  nun 
entered,  but  this  time  without  attendants.  Larsson 
exchanged  an  expressive  glance  with  his  comrades. 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  227 

approached  the  nun  hastily,  seized  her  by  the  neck, 
and  held  her  fast  against  the  wall. 

"  Keep  still,  like  a  good  child,  most  reverend 
abbess,"  mocked  the  captain.  ^  If  you  make  a 
sound,  it  is  all  over  with  you.  I  ought  really  to 
throw  you  out  of  the  window  to  swim  in  the  Main, 
so  as  to  teach  you  puncUnn  preciosum.,  that  is  to 
say,  a  precise  punctuality  in  your  attendance  upon 
us.  But  I  will  let  grace  prevail  instead  of  justice. 
Tell  me  only,  you  most  miserable  of  all  meal-bring- 
ers,  miserahile pecorale.,  what  is  the  meaning  of  that 
fire  they  are  preparing  on  the  square,  and  who  is 
going  to  be  roasted  there?  " 

"For  the  sake  of  all  the  saints,  speak  low!" 
whispered  the  nun,  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice.  "I 
am  Katchen,  and  have  come  to  save  you.  A  great 
danger  threatens  you.  The  prince  bishop  is  ex- 
pected to-morrow,  and  Father  Hieronymus,  the 
implacable  enemy  of  you  and  all  other  Finns,  has 
sworn  to  burn  you  alive  in  honor  of  the  saints." 

"The  little,  delicate,  soft  hand!"  exclaimed 
Larsson,  in  delight.  "Upon  my  honor,  if  I  was  not 
a  booby  not  to  recognize  it  immediately.  Well, 
then,  my  charming  friend,  to  Saint  Brita's  honor  I 
will  take  a  kiss  on  the  spot     .     .     ." 

And  the  captain  kept  his  word.  But  Katchen 
tore  herself  from  him,  and  said  rapidly: 

"  If  you  do  not  behave  yourself,  young  man, 
you  will  furnish  fuel  to  the  flame,  that  is  certain. 
Quick,  bind  me  fast  to  the  bed-post  and  tie  a  hand- 
kerchief over  my  mouth." 

"  Bind  you  fast  .  .  ."  replied  the  captain 
roguishly. 

"Quick!  The  guards  have  had  wine  and  are 
asleep,  but  in  twenty  minutes  they  will  be  visited 
by  the    father    himself.      Take    their   cloaks   and 


228  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

hasten     out.       The     watchword    is    '  Peter     and 
Paul.'" 

"And  you,  yourself  ?"  demurred  the  captain. 

"They  will  find  me  bound;  I  iiave  been  over- 
powered and  gaoged." 

"Noble  2;irl!  Crown  amono:  all  Franconia's 
sisters  of  charity!  Had  I  not  sworn  never  to 
marry  .  .  Well,  hurry  up,  Bertel!  Hurry, 
Pekka,  vou  lazy  doa:!  Farewell, "little  roarue!  One 
mure  kiss     .     .     .     good-by!" 

And  the  three  prisoners  hastened  out. 

But  scarcely  were  they  outside  the  door,  on  the 
dark  spiral  staircase,  before  they  felt  tiiemselves 
seized  by  iron  hands,  thrown  down  and  bound. 

"Take  the    dogs  down  to  the   treasure-room!" 
said  a  well-known  voice. 

It  was  the  voice  of  the  Jesuit  Hieronvmus. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

THE   TREASURE-KOOM. 


OVERPOWERED  and  bound  hand  and  foot, 
the  prisoners  soon  found  themselves  in  the 
dark,  damp  dungeon,  hewn  deep  in  tiie  rock,  where 
the  bishop  of  Wiirtzburg  had  kept  Ins  treasure 
before  the  Swedes  saved  him  the  trouble.  No  r;iy 
of  light  penetrated  into  this  musty  vault,  and  the 
moisture  from  the  rocks  trickled  througli  the  crev- 
ices and  dripped  monotonously  on  the  ground. 

"Lightning  and  Croats!  may  all  demons  take 
you,  cursed  earless  monk!"  yelled  the  captain, 
when  he  again  felt  the  firm  ground  under  his  feet. 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  229 

"  ro  shut  us  up,  the  officers  of  his  royal  majesty 
and  tlie  crown,  in  such  a  rat-trap!  Diabolus  in- 
feriuiiis  ))ndti/»i  j^^tis  2)lurimuml  .  .  Are  you 
alive,  Bertel?" 

"  Yes.     In  order  to  be  burned  alive  to-morrow." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  Bertel?"  asked  the  captain, 
almost  sadlv. 

''  I  know  this  treasure-room.  On  three  sides  is 
the  rock,  on  the  I'ourth  a  door  of  iron,  and  the  man 
who  guards  us  is  iiarder  than  rock  and  iron.  Never 
shall  we  see  Finland  a<?ain.  Never  shall  I  see  her 
more     ,     .     ." 

"  Listen  to  me,  Bertel ;  you  are  a  sensible  fel- 
low, but  that  does  not  hinder  you  from  sometimes 
ta  knig  like  a  milksop.  You  are  in  love  with  the 
black-haired  Regina;  well,  well,  I  will  say  nothing 
about  that:  Amor  est  valde  lurifaxius, — love  is  a 
bandit, — as  Ovid  so  truly  expresses  himself.  But  I 
cannot  stand  wtiimpering.  If  we  live,  there  are 
enough  other  girls  to  kiss;  if  we  die,  then  we  will 
say  good-riddance  to  them.  So  you  really  think 
that  they  intend  to  roast  us  like  plucked  wood- 
cocks?' 

"That  depends  upon  yourselves!"  answered 
a  voice  from  the  darkness.  All  three  prisoners 
started  with  affright. 

"The  evil  one  is  amongst  us!  "  exclaimed  Lars- 
son. 

Pekka  began  to  say  his  prayers.  Then  the 
clear  i-ays  of  a  dark-lantern  pierced  the  gloom,  and 
all  perceived  the  Jesuit  Hieronytnus  standing 
alone  near  the  captives. 

"  It  depends  upon  you,"  repeated  he.  "To  fly 
is  impossible.  Your  king  is  dead,  your  army  is 
beaten,  the  whole  world  acknowledges  the  power 
of  the  church  and  the  emperor.     The  pile  is  readj 


230  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

for  your  bodies  to  be  burned  in  honor  of  the  saints. 
But  the  holy  church,  in  its  clemency,  has  thought 
of  a  way  of  still  sparing  you,  and  has  sent  me  here 
to  offer  you  mercy." 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  Larsson,  mockingly. 
"  Come,  reverend  father,  loose  my  bonds  and  let 
me  embrace  you.  I  offer  you  my  friendship,  and 
of  course  you  believe  me.  How  says  Seneca? — 
homo  homini  lujyus^  toir  Wolfe  sind  alle  Briider.''''  * 

"  I  offer  you  mercy,"  continued  the  Jesuit, 
coldly,  "  on  three  conditions,  which  you  certainly 
will  not  refuse.  The  first  is,  that  you  abjure  your 
heretic  faith  and  publicly  join  the  only  saving 
church." 

"  Never!  "  exclaimed  Bertel,  fiercely. 

"Be  still!"  said  the  captain.  "Well,  posito 
that  we  abjure  the  Lutheran  faith?" 

"  Then,"  continued  the  Jesuit,  "you  shall,  as 
prisoners  of  war,  be  exchanged  for  the  high-born 
lady  and  princess  Retina  von  Emmeritz,  whom 
your  king  tyrannically  sent  in  captivity  to  the 
North." 

"  It  shall  be  done!"  answered  Bertel,  eagerly. 

"Be  still!"  cried  Larsson.  "Well,  go  on  \  posito 
that  we  accomplish  the  high-born  lady's  deliver- 
ance?" 

"  Then  there  remains  but  a  trifle.  I  demand  of 
Lieutenant  Bertel  King  Gustaf  Adolf's  ring." 

"  Your  purse  or  your  life,  in  highwayman  fash- 
ion! "  said  Larsson,  derisively. 

"  You  ask  what  I  do  not  possess,"  answered 
Bertel. 

The  .lesuit  looked  at  him  distrustfully. 

"The  king  commanded  Duke  Bernhard  to  give 
you  the  ring,  and  you  must  have  received  it." 

*  We  wolves  are  all  brothers. 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  231 

"  All  this  is  entirely  unkiiowii  to  me,"  said 
Bertel,  with  perfect  truth,  but  feeling  surprised 
and  overjoyed  at  the  unexpected  intelligence. 

The  Jesuit  resumed  his  smiling  composure. 

"  If  tliat  is  the  way  tiie  case  stands,  my  dear 
sons,"  said  he,  "  let  us  talk  no  more  about  the 
ring.  As  far  as  your  conversion  to  the  true  church 
is  concerned     .     .     ." 

Bertel  was  about  to  answer,  but  was  interrupted 
by  the  captain,  wlio  for  some  moments  had  been 
engaged  in  a  certain  rubbing  motion  with  that  part 
of  his  body  not  reached  by  the  light  of  the  lantern. 

"  Yes,  so  far  as  that  matter  is  concerned," 
Larsson  hastened  to  interpose,  "you  know,  rever- 
end father,  that  there  are  two  sides  to  it:  questio 
an  and  questio  quomodo.  Now  to  speak  first  of 
questio  aa^  my  late  rector  Vincentius  Flachsenius 
used  to  say,  in  his  time,  always  place  negare  as 
prima  r eg ida  juris.  Your  reverence  will  undoubt- 
edly find  it  unexpected  and  pleasant  to  hear  a  royal 
captain  talk  Latin  like  a  cardinal.  Your  reverence 
ought,  therefore,  to  know  that  we,  in  Abo  Cathe- 
dral school,  studied  both  Cicero,  Seneca,  and  Ovid, 
also  called  Naso.  For  my  part,  I  have  always  con- 
sidered Cicero  a  great  talker,  and  Seneca  a  block- 
head;  but  as  for  Ovid     .     .     ." 

The  Jesuit  moved  toward  the  door,  and  said, 
dryly: 

"  Thus  you  choose  the  stake?" 

"  Rather  that  than  the  disgrace  of  an  apostacy!  " 
exclaimed  Bertel,  who  had  not  noticed  Larsson's 
hints  and  siyns. 

"  My  friend,"  the  captain  hastened  to  add,  "  my 
friend  thinks,  quite  sensibly  and  naturally,  that  the 
ugly  part  of  the  matter  would  be  the  public  scan- 
dal.     Thus,  reverend  father,  let  us    confer    about 


232  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

giiestio  quomodo.  Posito  that  we  become  good 
Catholics,  and  enter  into  the  emperor's  service 
But  deign  to  come  a  little  nearer;  my 
friend  Bertel  is  rather  hard  of  hearinor  ever  since 
he  had  the  pleasure  of  making  the  acquaintance 
of  the  great  Pappenheim." 

Tlie  Jesuit  cautiously  advanced  a  few  steps 
closer,  yet  not  without  convincing  himself  by  a 
glance  that  retreat  stood  open. 

"It  is  I  who  decide  the  manner,"  said  he, 
hauo-htilv.     "Yes  or  no?" 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course,"  replied  Larsson,  quickly, 
as  he  continued  to  rub  himself.  "Consequently 
we  are  in  clear  waters  both  with  guestio  an  and 
qnestio  quomodo.  Your  reverence  has  a  most  per- 
suasive eloquence.  We  now  come  to  questio  ubi 
and  questio  quando^  for  according  to  logicarn  and 
metap/njsicam  .  .  Pardon  me,  worthy  father, 
I  don't  have  a  word  of  objection;  I  consent  to  it 
all.  But,"  continued  the  captain,  as  he  lowered 
his  voice,  "  deign  to  cast  a  glance  at  my  friend 
Bertel's  right  forefinger.  I  will  tell  your  reverence, 
my  friend  is  a  great  rogue;  I  am  very  mucli  mis- 
taken if  he  does  not  have  the  king-'s  rino^  on  at  this 
^very  moment." 

The  Jesuit,  carried  away  by  his  curiosity,  came 
a  few  steps  nearer.  Swift  as  an  eel,  Larsson,  un- 
able to  rise  on  account  of  his  bonds,  rolleii  himself 
between  the  Jesuit  and  the  door,  and  when  the 
monk  wished  to  retreat,  he  found  that  the  captain 
had  scraped  against  a  sharp  stone  the  ligatures 
which  held  his  right  arm,  with  which  he  suddeidy 
embraced  the  Jesuit's  leo-s,  and  drew  him  down 
over  him.  Fatlier  Hieronymus  made  desperate 
efforts  to  free  himself;  the  lantern  was  broken  into 
fragments,    the    ligiit    extinguished,    and    a    thick 


PIRE  AND   WATER.  233 

darkness  enveloped  the  wrestlers.  Bertel  and 
Pekka,  both  unable  to  get  up  and  help,  rolled 
themselves  toward  the  spot,  but  without  reaching 
it.  Then  the  brave  captain  felt  a  sharp  pain  in  his 
shoulder,  and  directly  afterwards  a  warm  stream  of 
blood.  With  a  Blitzdonnerkreutzl  he  wrenched 
the  dagger  from  his  enemy's  hand  and  returned  the 
stab.     The  Jesuit  now  sued  for  mercy  in  his  turn. 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure,  my  son!  "  answered 
the  captain,  mockingly.  "  But  only  on  three  con- 
ditions: the  first  is,  that  you  abjure  Loyola,  your 
lord  and  master,  and  declare  him  a  great  milksop. 
Do  you  agree  to  it?" 

"I  agree  to  everything,"  sighed  the  father. 

"  Tlie  second  is,  that  you  start  off  and  hang 
yourself  to  the  first  hook  you  find  in  the  ceiling." 

"  Yes,  yes,  only  let  go  of  me." 

"The  tliird  is,  that  vou  travel  to  Beelzebub, 
your  patron  saint,"  .  .  .  and  with  these  words, 
Larsson  flung  his  enemy  violently  against  the 
rocky  wall,  after  which  the  place  became  quite 
silent.  The  dagger  was  now  used  hastily  to  cut 
the  prisoners'  bonds,  and  then  it  only  remained  to 
find  tlie  door. 

When  the  three  fuoritives,  after  havino-  bolted 
the  door  of  the  treasure-room  from  without,  reach- 
ed the  dark  narrow  staircase  wiiich  led  to  the 
upper  regions  of  the  castle,  they  stopped  a  moment 
to  consult  together.  Their  situation  was  anything 
but  enviable,  for  they  knew  of  old  that  the  stairs 
led  to  the  bishop's  former  bedchamber,  from 
whence  two  or  three  parlors  had  to  be  crossed  be- 
fore they  came  to  the  large  armory,  and  through 
that  to  the  castle-yard,  after  which  they  still  had 
to  pass  the  chised  drawbridge  and  the  guard.  All 
the  rooms  except  the  bedchamber,  which  the 
10* 


834  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Jesuit  himself  seemed  to  have  taken  possession  of, 
had  only  two  hours  before,  when  the  prisoners 
were  brought  down,  been  filled  partly  with  soldiers, 
partly  with  the  sick  and  their  nurses. 

"One  thing  grieves  me,"  whispered  Larsson, 
"and  that  is  that  I  did  not  draw  the  fur  off  the  fox 
when  I  held  him  by  the  ears.  In  the  garments  of 
piety  I  could  have  gone  scot-free  through  purga- 
tory, like  another  &aidus  inter  2)i'ophetas.  But  as 
it  is,  my  friend  Bertel,  I  ask,  in  my  simplicity:  how 
shall  we  get  away  from  here?" 

"  We  will  fight  our  way  through.  The  garri- 
son are  asleep;  the  darkness  of  night  favors  us." 

"  I  confess,  my  fi'iend,  that  if  anybody,  even 
were  it  1,  Larsson  himself,  should  call  you  a 
coward,  I  would  call  that  fellow  a  liar.  It  is  true 
that  you  once,  as  good  as  solo.,  alone,  aliejius,  all  by 
yourself,  took  this  castle;  but  you  had  then  at 
least  a  sword  in  your  hand  and  a  few  thousand 
brave  boys  in  the  rear.  .  .  .  Hush!  I  hear  a  tread 
on  the  stairs; — no,  it  was  nothing.  Let  us  push 
on  cautiously.  Here  it  stands  one  in  need  to  tread 
like  a  maiden:  that  stupid  Limingo  peasant  tramps 
as  if  we  had  a  squadron  of  cavalry  at  our  heels." 

The  fuQ^itives  had  ascended  about  thirty  or 
forty  steps,  and  the  way  still  led  upward,  when  a 
faint  ray  of  light  glimmered  at  the  top  of  the  pas- 
sage. They  came  tea  door,  which  stood  ajar.  They 
stopped  and  held  their  breath;  not  a  sound  was 
heard.  The  brave  captain  now  ventured  to  push  in 
his  head,  then  his  foot,  and  finally  his  whole  stout 
person. 

"We  are  on  the  right  track,"  whispered  he; 
"boots  off!  the  whole  company  must  march  in 
stockings — jt?os^<o  that  the  company  has  stockings. 
March!" 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  235 

The  bishop's  bedchamber,  which  the  tliree  now 
entered  on  tip-toe,  was  a  large  and  once  magiiifi- 
cent  room.  A  flickering  lamp  dimly  illumined  the 
precious  Gobelin  tapestry,the  gilded  images  of  the 
saints,  Mnd  the  ebony  bedstead,  inlaid  with  pearl, 
where  the  rich  prelate  used  to  fall  asleep  with  his 
goblet  of  Rhine  wine  beside  him.  No  living  crea- 
ture was  to  be  seen;  but  from  one  of  the  windows 
which  overlooked  the  court-vard  thev  could  seethe 
castle  chapel  opposite  brilliantly  lighted,  and  filled 
with  people.  Even  the  castle-yard,  which  was 
lighted  by  the  reflection  from  the  windows,  was 
thronged  with  people,  many  of  whom  carried 
candles  in  their  hands, 

"I  will  let  them  salt  and  pickle  me  like  cucum- 
bers in  a  jar,  if  I  understand  what  all  those  people 
are  doing  here  in  the  middle  of  the  nio-ht,"  inut- 
tered  the  captain  testily.  Perhaps  they  have  come 
to  see  three  honest  Finnish  soldiers  roasted  by  a 
slow  fire  like  Aland  herrings!" 

"  We  must  look  for  weapons,  and  die  like  men," 
said  Bertel,  as  he  searched  through  the  room. 
"Hurrah  !  "  exclaimed  he,  "  here  are  three  swords, 
just  what  we  need." 

"And  three  daggers,"  added  Larsson,  who,  in 
a  large  niche  behind  the  image  of  a  saint,  had 
found  a  small  arsenal  of  all  sorts  of  weapons.  "The 
reverend  fathers  have  a  weakness  for  daggers,  as 
the  East  Bothnians  have  for  their   sheath-knives." 

"I  think,"  joined  in  the  close-moutlied  Pekka, 
as  he  caught  sight  of  a  good-sized  flask  in  a  cor- 
ner, "  I  think  that  as  it  is  Christmas  night  .  .  .  .  " 

"  Brave  boy  !  "  interrupted  the  captain,  ins|)ired 
by  this  prospect;  "you  have  a  remarkable  scent 
when  it  is  a  question  of  something  to  drink.  Pious 
Jesuit !  you  have  accomplished    some  good  in  the 


336  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

world  !  Christmas  nicrht,  did  you  say  ?  Bloclthead! 
why  didn't  you  tell  us  at  once?  It  is  as  clear 
as  day,  that  half  Wiirtzburg  is  streaming  to 
the  castle  to  hear  Father  Hieronymus  say  mass. 
By  my  honor,  I  am  afraid  he  will  make  them  wait 
some  time,  the  good  pater.  Here  goes,  my  friend; 
I  driidc  to  you;  an  otBcer  ought  always  to  set  his 
troops  a  good  example.  Your  health  my  boys.  .  . 
Damnation  !  .  .  .  the  miserable  moidi  has  cht^ated 
us  ;  I  have  swallowed  poison;  I  am  a  dead  man  !" 
And  the  honest  captain  became  pale  as  a  corpse. 

But  both  Bertel  and  Pekka  liad  hard  work  to 
restrain  tiieir  laughter,  notv/ithstanding  their 
dangerous  situation,  when  they  saw  Larsson  at  once 
white  from  fright  and  black  from  the  fluid  he  had 
drank  and  spilled  over  himself. 

"  Be  more  moderate  another  time,"  said  Bertel, 
"  and  you  will  avoid  drinking  ink." 

"Ink!  I  might  have  known  that  the  earless 
scrawler  would  be  up  to  some  deviltry.  Two 
things  trouble  me  to-night  more  than  all  inUos-da- 
fe:  that  the  sweet  Kiitchen,  with  the  soft  hand, 
deceived  us,  and  that  I  have  swallowed  the  most 
useless  stuff  in  the  world — ink.     Bah  !  " 

"  If  we  had  nothing  else  to  do,  I  could  show 
you  something  that  ink  has  done,"  rejoined  Bertel, 
as  he  hastily  turued  over  a  pile  of  papers  on  the 
writing-table.  "  Here  is  a  letter  from  the  princely 
bishop  ...  he  is  coming  to-morrow  .  .  .  we  are 
to  be  solemnly  burned  .  .  .  they  will  tempt  us 
to  abjure  our  faith,  and  promise  us  grace  ,  .  .  but 
burn  us,  nevertheless  !  Infamous  !" 

"  Roman  fashion  !"  observed  the  captain,  phleg- 
tnatically. 

In  the  meantime  Larsson  had   drawn  out  three 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  337 

monks'  cloaks;  thev  put  them  on,  and  now  ven- 
tured to  proceed  farther  in  the  dangerous  regions. 

'JMie  next  two  rooms  were  empty.  Two  rude 
beds  oave  evidence  that  some  serving  brothers  had 
their  abode  liere,  and  were  now  gone  to  mass. 

"  Bravo  !"  whispered  Larsson,  "they  will  take 
us  for  sheep  in  wolves'  clothing,  and  believe  that 
we  also  are  Q:oin<j  to  attend  mass.  .  .  .  Hark  ! 
didn't  you  hear  something  ? — a  woman's  voice  ? 
Be  quiet  !" 

They  stopped,  and  heard  in  the  darkness  a 
young  female  voice,  praying  : 

"  Holy  Virgin,  forgive  ine  this  time,  and  save 
me  froM)  death;  I  will  to-morrow  take  the  veil, 
and  serve  vou  all  my  life  !" 

"  It  is  Kjitchen's  voice  !"  said  the  captain.  "Can 
it  be  that  she  is  innocent,  poor  child  ?  Upon  my 
honor,  it  would  be  base  of  a  cavalier  not  to  rescue 
a  sweet  girl  with  such  a  soft  hand  !  " 

"  Let  us  he  off  !"  whispered  Bertel,  in  vexation. 
But  the  captain  had  already  found  a  litile  door, 
bolted  on  the  outside;  beyond  the  door  was  a  cell, 
and  in  that  cell  was  a  tremblino^  girl.  Her  eves, 
accustomed  to  the  darkness,  distinguished  the 
monk's  garb;  she  threw  herself  at  the  captain's  feet, 
and   exclaimed: 

"Grace,  my  father,  grace  !  I  will  confess  all;  I 
have  favored  the  prisoners'  flight,  I  have  given 
wine  to  the  guard.  But  spare  my  life,  have  mercy 
upon  me  for  the  saints'  sake  !  I  am  so  young.  I 
do  not  wish  to  die  yet !  " 

"  Who  the  devil  has  said  that  you  shall  die,  my 
brave  girl  ?"  imerrupted  the  captain.  "No,  you 
shall  live,  with  your  soft  hand  and  your  warm  lips, 
as  true  as  1  am  not  a  Jesuit,  but  Lars  Larsson, 
captain  in  the  service  of  his  royal  majesty  and  the 


238  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

crown  and  herewith  take  you  ...  as  my  wedded 
wife,  for  better  or  for  worse,  "  continued  the  cap- 
tain, undoubtedly  because  he  considered  that  tlie 
well-known  formula  must  be  said  to  an  end  when 
he  once  bea^an  it. 

"Away,  away!  with  or  without  the  girl,  but 
away  ! — they  are  coming,  and  we  still  have  to  pass 
the  large  armory  !" 

"  Allow  me  to  tell  you,  my  friend,  Bertel,  that 
you  are  the  greatest  ticldle-faddle  1  know;  maximus 
Jiescus,  as  the  ancients  so  truly  expressed  tliem- 
selves.  How  is  it,  my  girl,  you  are  not  a  nun,  but 
only  a  novice  ?  Well,  it  is  all  the  same  to  me. 
You  shall  be  my  wedded  wife,  in  case  I  ever  marry. 
Here  is  a  cloak;  there  now,  put  that  on  and  look 
bold." 

"  It  is  no  cloak,  it  is  a  mass-robe,"  whispered 
Katchen,  who  had  scarcely  time  to  recover  from 
her  amazement. 

"  The  deuce  !  a  mass-robe  !  Wait;  ynu  take 
my  cloak  and  I  will  take  the  robe.  I  will  chant 
dies  ircB,  in  their  ears  so  that  they  all  will  be  aston- 
ished." 

The  sound  of  several  voices  in  the  armory  out- 
side interrupted  the  captain  in  his  priestly  medi- 
tations 

"  They  have  missed  the  Jesuit;  they  are  looking 
for  him,  and  we  are  lost  throuiih  your  silly  non- 
sense," whispered  Bertel,  in  exasperation.  "We 
must  now  be  careful  not  to  betray  ourselves. 
Come  along,  all  of  you." 

"And  the  Latinist  first  !  "  exclaimed  the  cap- 
tain. 

All  four  went  out.  In  the  armory  were  some 
thirty  sick-beds,  but  only  two  sisters  in  attendance. 
This  sight  was  reassuring,  but  all  the  more  danger- 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  239 

ous  was  the  meeting  with  the  two  monks,  who 
stood  in  excited  altercatioti  close  by  the  door. 
Wl)eii  they  saw  Larsson  in  the  mass-robe,  and  be- 
hind him  tliree  figures  in  cloaks,  the  pious  fathers 
were  greatly  startled.  The  captain  raised  his  arms 
to  bless  them,  uttered  a  solemn  pax  vohiscum^  and 
was  about  to  steal  by  with  a  grave  step  when  he 
was  checked  by  the  foremost  monk. 

"  Reverend  father,"  said  the  latter,  as  he  closely 
eyed  the  unknown  prelate  from  head  to  foot, 
"  what  procures  our  castle  this  honor  at  so  unusual 
a  time?" 

"  Pax  vobiscum  P''  repeated  the  captain  de- 
voutly. "  The  pious  Father  Hieronymus  com- 
mands you  to  say  mass  the  best  you  know  how. 
.  .  .  His  reverence  is  sick  ...  he  has  toothache." 

"  Let  us  seek  his  reverence,"  said  one  of  the 
monks,  entering  the  smaller  room.  But  the  other 
seized  Larsson  by  the  robe,  and  looked  at  him  in 
a  way  which  did  not  at  all  please  the  brave  cap- 
tain. 

"  Quis  vus  e,  quid  eltis  f''  repeated  the  captain, 
nonplussed.  "  Qui  quoe  qxiod.,  meus  tuus  suns  .  .  . 
go  to  the  devil,  you  bald-headed  baboons  !  "  roared 
Larsson,  unable  to  restrain  himself  longer,  and 
pushed  the  resisting  monks  into  the  chamber  and 
bolted  the  door.  Then  all  four  hastened  down  to 
the  court-yard.  Behind  them  arose  a  great  outcry; 
the  monks  shouted  with  all  their  might,  the  nuns 
joined  in,  and  soon  the  attention  of  the  crowd  of 
people  who  thronged  the  court-yard  began  to  be 
attracted. 

"  We  are  lost,"  whispered  Katchen,  "  unless  we 
can  reach  the  drawbridge  by  the  back  way." 

They  hastened  there.  The  tumult  increased. 
They  passed  the  guard  at  the  large  sally-port. 


240  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"Halt  !  Who  croes  there  ?" 

"  Peter  and  Paul^''  answered  Bertel,  promptly. 

Tiiey  passed  out.  Foituiiately  tlie  drawbridge 
was  dovvii.   But  the  whole  castle  was  now  in  alarm. 

"Let  us  jump  into  the  river;  the  night  is  dark; 
they  will  not  find  us  !"  cried  Bertel. 

"No,"  said  Larsson,  "  I  will  not  leave  ray  girl, 
if  it  should  cost  me  my  neck." 

"Here  staiul  three  saddled  horses  !   Be  quick  !" 

"  Up,  you  sweetest  of  all  the  nuns  in  Franco- 
nia  !  up  in  the  saddle  !"  and  the  agile  captain 
swunix  the  trembling  Kiitchen  before  iiim  on  tlie 
horse's  back.  They  all  galloped  away  in  the  dark- 
ness. But  behind  them  was  tumult  and  uproai-;  the 
alarm-bells  sounded  in  ali  the  turrets,  and  the 
whole  of  Wiirtzburg  wondered  wliat  could  have 
happened  on  this  Christmas  night. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    DUKE    AND    THE    LIEUTENANT. 

ONE  spring  day  in  March,  1G33, — three  months 
after  the  events  rarrated  in  the  last  chapter 
— we  find  Lieutenant  Bertel  in  an  ante-chamber  of 
the  little  military  conrt  which  the  Duke  Bernhnrd 
of  Weimar  held  sometimes  at  Cassel,  sometimes  at 
Nassau,  or  at  other  places  where  the  cares  of  war 
brought  him.  Adjutants  came  and  went,  orders 
flew  in  all  directions,  for  the  duke  had  a  large  por- 
tion of  southern  and  western  Germanv  as  his  de- 
partment, and  the  times  were  very  troublous. 

After  waiting  a  long   time,    the   young  officer 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  241 

was  conducted  to  the  duke.  The  hitter  looked  up 
distractedly  from  his  charts  and  papers,  and  seemed 
to  expect  to  bo  addressed.     But  Bertel  kept  silent. 

"  Wlio  are  vou  ?  "  said  Duke  Bernhard,  ab- 
ruptly  and  harshly. 

"  Gustaf  Bertel,  lieutenant  in  his  royal  majesty's 
Finnish  cavalry." 

"  What  do  you  want  ?" 

The  youth  colored,  and  made  no  reply.  The 
duke  perceived  tiiis,  and  regarded  him  with  dis- 
pleased looks. 

"I  understand,"  said  the  latter  at  length;  "  you 
have,  as  usual,  been  duelling  with  the  German 
officers  on  account  of  the  girls.  I  will  not  toler- 
ate such  things.  A  soldier  should  reserve  his 
weapon  for  his  fatherland." 

"  1  have  not  been  fighting,  your  highness." 

"  So  much  the  worse.  Then  you  come  to  ask  a 
furlough  to  Finland.  You  remain,  lieutenant.  Good- 
morning." 

"  I  do  not  come  to  ask  a  furlough." 

"  Indeed ;  then  what  the  deuce  do  you  come  for? 
Can  you  not  speak  out,  sir,  quicl<  and  short !  Leave 
it  to  priests  to  make  prayers,  and  to  girls  to  blush." 

"  Your  hio-hness  has  received  a  ring:  from  his 
majesty  the  late  king     ..." 

"  I  do  not  remember  it." 

"...  which  his  majesty  requested  your  high- 
ness to  deliver  to  an  officer  of  his  life-guard." 

The  duke  passed  his  hand  over  his  high   brow. 

"  The  officer  is  dead,"  said  he. 

"That  officer  am  I,  your  highness.  Wounded 
at  Liitzen,  I  was  directly  afterwards  taken  prisoner 
by  the  Imperialists." 

Duke  Bernhard  beckoned  Bertel  nearer,  looked 

Q  11 


242  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

at  him    searchingly,  and   seemed  satisfied  with  his 
examination. 

"  Close  the  door,"  said  he,  "and  seat  yourself 
here  at  my  side." 

Bertel  obeyed.  His  cheeks  orJowed  with  anxiety. 

"  Young  man,"  said  the  duke,  "  on  your  brow 
you  bear  witness  of  your  origin,  and  I  ask  no 
further  proof.  Your  mother  is  a  peasant's  daugh- 
ter, of  Storkyro,  in  Finland,  called  Emerentia 
Aronsdotter  Bortila." 

"  No,  your  highness.  The  person  you  mention 
is  my  elder  sister,  born  of  my  father's  first  marriage. 
I  have  never  seen  my  mother." 

The    duke  looked  at  him  with  surprise. 

"Very  well,"  said  he,  doubtfully,  as  he  hastily 
glanced  through  some  papers  in  his  portfolio;  "  we 
will,  however,  speak  of  this  sister  of  yours,  Emer- 
entia Aronsdotter.  Her  father  had  rendered  great 
service  to  King  Charles  IX.,  and  was  urged  to 
request  some  sign  of  favor.  He  asked  to  be  al- 
lowed to  send  his  dauo-hter,  then  his  onlv  child,  to 
Stockholm,  in  order  to  be  educated  with  young 
ladies  of  rank  at  the  court." 

"  I  know  little  about  that." 

"  At  thirteen  years  of  age,  the  young  peasant 
girl  was  sent  to  Stockholm,  where  her  father's 
vanity  and  wealth  procured  her  a  residence,  dress, 
and  education,  far  above  her  rank.  He  burned 
with  ambition ;  and  as  he  himself  could  not  gain  a 
noble  crest,  he  depended  upon  his  daughter's  high 
birth  on  her  mother's  side,  for  Bertila's  first  wife  was 
an  orphan  girl  of  the  family  Stjernkors,  deprived 
of  her  inheritance  through  the  war,  and  then  dis- 
owned by  her  haughty  family  on  account  of  her 
marriage  with  the  rich  peasant  Bertila." 

"All  this  is  unknown  to  me." 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  243 

"  The  young  Einerentia  suffered  very  much  in 
Stockholm  from  the  envy  and  derision  of  her  aris- 
tocratic companions,  for  many  of  them  were  poorer 
than  she  and  could  not  endure  to  see  a  ph^beian 
placed  at  their  side  as  an  equal.  But  her  beauty 
was  as  extraordinary  as  her  goodness  and  intelli- 
gence. Within  two  years  she  had  acquired  the 
refined  habits  of  the  best  circles,  while  she  pre- 
served the  rustic  simplicity  of  her  heart.  This 
rare  union  of  mental  and  physical  graces  reminded 
old  persons  of  a  lovely  image  from  their  youth 
Karin  Mansdotter." 

At  these  words  the  duke  o-ave  tlie  vouno;  man 
a  sharp  glance.  But  Bertel's  expression  did  not 
change.  All  this  was  to  him  new  and  incompre- 
hensible. 

"Well,"  continued  the  duke,  after  apause,  "tnis 
beauty  was  not  long  unobserved.  A  very  young 
man  of  high  birth  speedily  fell  in  love  with  the 
beautiful  maiden,  who  was  then  only  fifteen,  and 
she  returned  his  attachment  with  all  the  devotion 
of  first  love.  This  attachment  did  not  long:  remain 
unobserved  by  those  around  the  patrician  youth; 
policy  trembled,  and  the  pride  of  the  nobility  felt 
itself  offended  by  this  distinction  bestowed  upon  a 
girl  of  low  birth.  They  resolved  to  marry  the 
young  girl  to  an  officer,  like  herself  of  humble 
orio;in,  but  distiiiQ-uished  for  his  valor  in  the  Danish 
war.  This  intellig:ence  came  to  the  ears  of  the 
young  couple.  Poor  children!  they  were  so  young, 
he  seventeen,  she  fifteen,  both  inexperienced,  and 
in  love.  Shortly  afterward  the  young  man  went  to 
the  war  in  Poland;  the  vouno-  o-irl's  marriaa^e  came 
to  naught,  and  she  was  sent  back  by  the  offended 
aiobility  to  her  cabins  in  Finland,  in  disgrace.     Do 


244  TIME'S  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


you    wish     to    know    anything    more,    Lieutenant 
Bertel?" 

"  I  do  not  understand,  your  highness,  what  the 
account  of  my  sister's  life  has  to  do  with     .      .     ." 

"  •  .  the  ring  you  ask  for?  Patience. 
When  the  young  man  left  for  the  war,  and  for  the 
last  time  had  a  secret  meeting  with  his  beloved, 
she  gave  hmi  a  ring,  whose  earlier  history  I  do  not 
know,  but  which  was  supposed  to  have  been  forged 
by  a  Finnish  sorcerer,  and  to  have  all  the  qualities 
of  an  amulet.  She  conjured  her  lover  to  constantly 
wear  this  ring  on  his  finger  in  danger  and  in  war, 
as  he  would  thus  become  invulnerable.  Twice  was 
this  warning  forgotten;  oncG  at  Dirschau     .     .     ." 

"Great  God!" 

"     .     .     •     and  the  second  time  at  Liitzen." 

Bertel's  emotion  was  so  violent  that  the  blood 
all  left  his  cheeks,  and  he  stood  pale  as  a  marble 
statue. 

"  Young  man,  you  now  know  a  part  of  what 
you  ought  to  know,  but  you  do  not  yet  know  all. 
We  have  hitherto  spoken  of  your  sister;  we  will 
now  speak  of  you.  It  was  his  majesty's  intention 
to  offer  you  a  nobleman's  coat  of  arms,  which  your 
brave  sword  had  so  well  earned.  But  the  old 
Aaron  Bertila,  actuated  by  his  hatred  of  the 
nobility,  solicited  as  a  favor  that  the  king  would 
give  you  opportunity  of  gaining  any  otlier  dis- 
tinction, but  not  allow  you  to  accept  a  noble  name. 
The  king  could  not  refuse  this  entreaty  from  a 
father  .  .  .  and  therefore. you  are  still  a  com- 
moner by  name.  But  I,  who  am  not  bound  by  any 
promise  to  your  father,  I  offer  you,  young  man, 
what  has  heretofore  been  refused  you — the  spur 
and  escutcheon  of  a  knig-ht." 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  245 

"' Your  hig-hness  .  .  .  this  favor  makes  me 
dumb;  how  have  I  deserved  it?" 

Duke  Bertihard  smiled  with  a  strange  expres- 
sion. 

"  How?  My  friend,  you  have  only  half  under- 
stood me." 

Bertel  said  nothing. 

"  Very  well;  with  or  without  your  knowledge 
or  will,  1  rea:ard  vou  alreadv  as  a  nobleman.  We 
will  talk  together  about  it  another  time.  Your 
ring  .  .  ah  .  .  I  have  forgotten  it.  Do  you 
remember  how  it  looked?"  And  the  duke  looked 
zealously  in  his  portfolio. 

"  They  say  that  the  king  wore  a  copper  ring,  on 
the  inside  of  which  were  engraved  magic  signs, 
and  the  letters  R.  R.  R." 

"  It  is  possible  that  I  have  mislaid  it,  for  I  can- 
not find  it.  But  who  the  deuce  has  time  to  think 
about  such  childish  things?  The  ring  must  have 
been  stolen  from  my  private  casket.  If  I  find  it 
again,  you  shall  have  it.  If  not,  you  know  that 
which  is  worth  more.  Go,  young  man;  be  worthy 
my  confidence  and  the  great  king's  memory!  No 
one  ought  to  know  what  I  have  told  you.  Fare- 
well; we  shall  see  each  other  again." 


CHAPTER  V. 

RECONCILIATION. 

ONCE  more  we  hasten  from  spring  in  Germany 
back  to  winter  in  the  North.  Before  we 
proceed  farther  in  the  bloody  path  of  the  Thirty 
Years'  War,  we  will  make   a  visit  to  two  of  the 


246  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

chief  persons  in  this  narrative,  high  up  in  East 
Bothnia. 

It  was  at  Advent  time,  1632.  A  violent  storm, 
mino-led  with  flurries  of  snow,  beat  a2:ainst  the  old 
ramparts  of  Korsliolm,  and  drove  the  autumnal 
waves  of  the  Baltic  against  the  ice-bound  shore. 
Navio-ation  for  the  year  was  over:  no  one  crossed 
that  stormy  sea.  The  newly  conscripted  recruits 
had,  at  the  end  of. July,  left  for  Stralsund,  by  way 
of  Stockholm.  News  from  the  seat  of  war  was  im- 
patiently awaited.  Suddenly,  in  the  middle  of 
November,  a  rumor  spread  through  the  country 
that  the  king  was  dead.  Such  rumors  fly  through 
the  air,  no  one  knows  how  or  from  whence:  great 
misfortunes,  like  presentiments,  are  known  at  a 
long  distance;  as  a  remote  earthquake,  far  beyond 
its  circle,  causes  a  qualm  in  the  mind.  But  this 
report  had  more  than  once  before  been  both  circu- 
lated and  refuted;  people  relied  on  King  Gustaf 
Adolf's  good  fortune;  and  as  corroboration  failed 
to  come,  they  forgot  the  story  in  the  belief  that  it 
was  false. 

It  is  a  common  experience  in  life,  that,  as  we 
hate  those  to  whom  we  have  done  a  wrong,  we  feel 
kindly  disposed  toward  persons  to  whom  we  have 
had  an  opportunity  of  doing  good.  Lady  Martha 
was  not  a  little  proud  of  her  brave  defence  of 
Korsholm  against  the  drunken  soldiers,  and  did 
not  neglect  to  attribute  the  preservation  of  the 
castle  to  the  heroism  she  had  then  displayed.  That 
she  had  saved  Regina's  life,  gave  the  latter  a  great 
importance  in  her  eyes;  but  neither  could  she  re- 
fuse her  admiration  to  the  courage  and  self-sacri- 
fice which  the  young  girl  had  shown  on  that  occa- 
sion. The  liigh-born  prisoner  was  her  pride;  she 
did  not  omit  to  watch  all  her  steps  like  an  Argus, 


FIRE  AND   WA  TER.  247 

but  she  gave  Regina  a  finer  room,  let  her  have  old 
Dorthe  again  as  a  waiting  woman,  and  provided 
her  with  an  abundance  of  good  food.  Regina  had 
grown  somewliat  less  proud  and  cold;  she  could 
sometimes  answer  Laciy  Martha  with  a  word  or  a 
nod;  but  of  all  the  nice  things  that  were  offered 
her — the  choice  meats  and  beer,  and  many  other 
delicacies — she  took  little  or  nothing.  She  had 
sunk  into  an  apparent  indifference;  she  told  her 
beads  devoutly,  but  in  other  respects  let  one  day 
pass  like  another. 

Lady  Martha  held  the  deep  conviction  that  her 
prisoner,  if  not  exactly  the  Roman  emperor's  own 
daughter,  was  yet  a  princess  of  the  highest  birth. 
She  therefore  hit  upon  the  unlucky  idea  of  trying 
to  convert  so  distinguished  a  person  from  her 
papist  heresy,  in  the  supposition  that  she  would 
thereby  accomplish  sometliing  very  remarkable 
when  the  war  ended  and  Regina  was  exchanged. 
Thus  Regina  became  exposed  to  the  same  proselyt- 
ing attempts  which  she  herself  had  undertaken 
with  the  great  Gustaf  Adolf,  but  Lady  Martha's 
zeal  was  of  a  grosser  and  more  awkward  sort.  She 
overwhelmed  the  poor  girl  with  Lutheran  sermons, 
psalm-books,  and  tracts,  occasionally  made  her  long 
speeches  interspersed  with  proverbs,  and  when 
she  found  this  was  without  avail  she  sent  the  castle 
chaplain  to  preach  to  the  prisoner.  Of  course  all 
this  fell  upon  deaf  ears.  Regina  was  sufficiently 
firm  in  her  faith  to  listen  with  patience,  but  she 
suffered  from  it;  her  stav  at  Korsholm  became  each 
day  more  unendurable;  and  who  can  blame  her  if 
she  sighed  with  secret  longing  for  the  day  when 
she  should  regain  her  freedom? 

Dorthe,  on  the  contrary,  flamed  up   every  time\ 
the  heretic  preacher  or  the  plucky  old  lady  began 


248  TIMES  OF  GUST  A  F  ADOLF. 

with  their  sermons,  and  rattled  tlirough  a  wliole 
string  of  prayers  and  maledictions  both  in  Latin 
and  Low  Dutch,  the  result  of  which  was  usually 
that  she  was  shut  up  for  two  or  three  days  in  the 
dunsreon  of  the  castle,  until  the  lono-ino-  for  her 
mistress  made  her  manageable.  And  so  passed  a 
half  year  of  Reg-ina's  captivity. 

A  better  result  of  Lady  ISIiirtha's  good-will  was 
that  Regina  was  allowed  to  embroider,  and  that 
fine  materials  were  ordered  for  her  in  the  autumn 
from  Stockholm.  Thus  it  became  possible  for  her 
to  embroider  a  large  piece  of  silk  with  the  Virgin 
Mary  and  the  Infant  Christ  in  silver  and  gold. 
Martha,  in  her  innocence,  considered  the  work  an 
altar-cloth,  which  Regina  possibly  might  present 
to  Wasa  church,  as  a  proof  of  her  change  of  senti- 
ments. A  warrior's  eyes,  on  the  other  iiand,  would 
have  discerned  in  it  an  intended  flag,  a  banner  of 
the  Catholic  faith,  which  the  imprisoned  girl  quietly 
prepared,  in  expectation  of  the  day  when  it  should 
wave  at  the  head  of  the  Catholic  hosts. 

Still,  Lady  Martha  was  not  quite  satisfied  with 
the  Holv  Viro-in  Mary's  ima2:e,  which  seemed  to 
her  surrounded  by  too  large  a  halo  to  be  truly 
Lutheran.  She  was  therefore  considering  how 
she  could  find  for  her  prisoner  a  more  suitable  oc- 
cupation. It  happened  now  and  then  that  Meri, 
the  daughter  of  the  Storkyro  peasant  king,  when 
•she  was  in  town,  made  an  errand  to  Korsholm,  and, 
in  order  to  gain  the  favor  of  the  lady  of  the  castle, 
presented  her  with  several  skeins  of  the  silkiest 
linen  floss,  which  none  in  the  whole  region  could 
spin  so  well  as  Meri.  Lady  Martha  consequently 
took  the  notion  one  fine  day  to  permit  her  prisoner 
to  learn  to  spin,  and  gave  her  Meri  as  a  teacher  in 
this  art.     Meri  in  her  heart  desired  nothing  better. 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  249 


The  near  connection  in  which  the  imprisoned  lady 
had  stood  to  the  king,  gave  her  an  unsurpassable 
interest  in  Meri's  eyes.  She  wished  to  hear  some- 
thing about  him — the  hero,  the  king,  the  great, 
never-to-be-forgotten  man,  who  stood  before  her 
memory  in  more  than  earthly  splendor.  She 
wished  to  know  what  he  had  said,  what  he  had  done, 
what  he  had  loved  and  what  hated  on  earth;  she 
wished  for  once  to  feel  herself  transported  by  his 
glory,  and  then  die  herself,  forgotten.  PoorMeri! 
So  Meri  made  her  second  acquaintance  with 
Lady  Regina  in  the  castle.  She  was  at  first  re- 
ceived with  coldness  and  indifference,  and  her 
spinning  scarcely  pleased  the  proud  young  lady. 
But  gradually  her  mild  and  submissive  demeanor 
won  Regina's  good-will,  and  a  captive's  natural 
desire  to  communicate  with  beings  outside  the  pri- 
son walls  finally  caused  her  heart  to  open.  They 
spun  very  little,  it  is  true,  but  they  talked  together 
like  mistress  and  servant,  especially  during  the  days 
when  Dorthe  was  shut  up  for  her  vicious  tongue; 
and  it  was  quite  opportune  that  Meri  recalled  from 
former  and  brighter  days  some  knowledge  of  the 
German  tongue.  Meri  well  knew  how  to  lead  the 
conversation  toward  one  subject — the  king;  and 
Meri  was  quick-sighted;  she  soon  divined  Regina's 
enthusiastic  love.  But  Regina  was  far  from  having 
any  suspicion  of  Meri's  earlier  life;  she  attributed 
her  questions  to  the  natural  curiosity  which  such 
lofty  objects  always  excite  in  the  uncultivated. 
Sometimes  she  seemed  astonished  at  the  delicacy 
and  nobility  of  the  simple  peasant  woman's  expres- 
sions and  views.  There  were  moments  when 
Meri's  personality  appeared  to  her  an  enigma  full 
of  contradictions;  and  then  she  asked  herself 
whether  she  oua-ht  not  to   consider   this   woman    a 


250  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


spy.  But  the  next  instant  slie  repented  this 
thouglit;  when  the  spinner  looked  at  her  with  her 
clear,  mild,  penetrating  gaze,  something  convinced 
Regina's  heart  of  her  sincerity. 

They  were  both  sitting  thus  one  day  in  the 
beginning  of  December,  while  Dorthe  was  again 
locked  up  for  unseasonable  remarks  to  the  chap- 
lain. There  was  a  bright  contrast  between  these 
two  beings,  whom  fate  had  brought  together  from 
such  difierent  spheres,  but  who  on  one  point  shared 
the  same  interest.  The  first,  young,  beautiful, 
proud,  dark,  flashing,  a  princess  even  in  her  cap- 
tivity; the  other,  of  middle  age,  blond,  pale,  deli- 
cate, mild,  humble,  free,  yet  submissive.  Regina, 
now  seventeen  years  of  age,  might  have  been 
thought  twenty;  Meri,  thirty-six,  had  in  her  whole 
appearance  something  so  childlike  and  innocent 
that  at  certain  moments  she  might  have  been 
thought  seventeen.  She  might  have  been  Regina's 
mother;  and  yet,  although  she  had  suffered  so 
much,  she  seemed  almost  like  a  child  in  comparison 
with  the  early  matured  Southerner  at  her  side. 

Lady  Regina  had  spun  for  some  time,  and  had 
broken  many  threads.  Vexed  and  impatient,  she 
pushed  the  distaff  away  and  resumed  her  embroid- 
ery. This  had  happened  so  often  that  her  teacher 
had  become  accustomed  to  it. 

"What  a  pretty  picture  !  "  said  Meri,  looking 
at  the  piece  of  silk.     "AVhat  does  it  represent  ?" 

"  God's  Holy  Mother,  ASV/?;ctoJJ/an«,"  answered 
Regina,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  as  she  was 
always  in  the  habit  of  doing  when  she  mentioned 
the  Holy  Virgin. 

"And  what  is  it  for  ?"  asked  Meri,  with  a 
naive  familiarity. 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  251 

Regina  looked  at  her.  Again  a  suspicion  arose 
in  her  mind,  but  it  immediately  passed  away. 

"  I  am  embroidering  the  banner  of  the  holy 
faith  for  Germany,"  replied  Regina,  franklj'  and 
boldly.  "When  it  shall  wave,  the  heretics  will  iiee 
before  the  wrath  of  the  Mother  of  God." 

"When  I  think  of  the  Mother  of  God,"  said 
Meri,  "  I  always  imagine  her  as  mild,  and  good, 
and  peaceful;  I  imagine  her  as  a  mother,  trans- 
cending in  her  love."  Meri  said  these  words  with 
a  peculiar  tremor  in  her  voice. 

"  The  Mother  of  God  is  heaven's  queen  ;  she 
will  contend  against  the  godless  and  destroy  them." 

"  But  when  the  Mother  of  God  takes  to  strife, 
Kino-  Gustaf  Adolf  will  meet  her  with  uncovered 
head  and  lowered  sword,  bend  his  knee  to  her,  and 
say  :  '  Holy  Virgin,  I  am  iiot  fighting  for  thy  glory, 
but  for  that  of  thy  Son,  our  Saviour.'  And  then 
the  Holy  Mary  will  smile  and  answer  :  '  One  who 
fights  for  my  Son  also  fights  for  me;  for  I  am  a 
mother.'  " 

"Your  king  is  a  heretic,"  answered  Lady  Re- 
gina, excitedly;  for  nothing  irritated  her  so  much 
as  opposition  to  the  Catholic  faith,  of  which  the 
doctrine  of  the  Virgin  Mary  as  heaven's  ruler  is  a 
characteristic  part.  "Your  king  is  a  tyrant  and  an 
unbeliever,  who  draws  all  tlie  anger  of  the  saint& 
upon  his  head.  Do  you  know,  Merchen,  that  1 
hate  your  king  ?" 

"And  I  love  him,"  said  Meri,  in  a  scarcely 
audible  voice. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Regina,  "I  hate  him  like 
death,  sin,  and  perdition.  If  I  were  a  man 
and  had  an  arm  and  a  sword,  it  would  be  the  aim 
of  my  life  to  destroy  his  army  and  his   work.     You 


252  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

are  fortunate,  Merchen;  you  know  nothing  about 
war;  you  do  not  know  what  Gustaf  Adolf  lias  done 
to  us  poor  Catholics.  But  I  have  seen  it,  and  my 
country  and  my  faith  cry  for  revenge.  There  are 
moments  when  1  feel  that  I  could  kill  him." 

"And  when  Ladv  Regina  raises  her  white  hand 
with  the  2:lea!nino;  dag-o-er  over  the  kino-'s  head, 
then  the  king  will  expose  his  breast,  where  the 
great  heart  beats,  look  at  her  with  a  glance  of  sub- 
limity and  calmness,  and  say:  'Thou  delicate 
white  hand,  which  worketh  the  picture  of  the 
Mother  of  God,  strike,  if  thou  canst;  my  heart  is 
here,  and  it  beats  for  the  freedom  and  enlighten- 
ment of  the  world.'  And  then  the  white  hand  will 
sink  slowly  down,  the  dagger  will  drop  from  it  un- 
perceived,  and  the  Holy  Virgin's  picture  on  the 
banner  will  smile  aorain,  for  she  knew  full  well  that 
it  would  be  so;  it  would  have  been  just  the  same 
with  herself.  For  none  can  kill  and  none  hate 
King  Gustaf  Adolf,  because  God's  angel  walks  at 
his  side  and  turns  human  hatred  into  love." 

Regina  forgot  her  work,  and  looked  at  Meri 
with  her  large,  dark,  moist  eyes.  There  was  much 
that  surprised  and  moved  her  in  these  words. 
But  she  kept  silent.     Presently  she  said  : 

"  The  king  wears  an  amulet." 

"  Yes,"  said  Meri,  "he  wears  an  amulet;  but  it 
is  not  the  copper  ring,  of  which  people  speak;  it  is 
his  exalted  human  heart,  which  renounces  every- 
thing for  truth  and  nobleness.  When  he  was  quite 
young,  and  had  neither  name  nor  renown,  only  his 
blond  hair,  his  high  brow,  and  his  mild  blue  eyes, 
he  wore  no  amulets;  and  yet  blessing  and  love  and 
happiness  went  by  his  side.  All  the  angels  in 
heaven  and  all  beings  on  earth  loved  him." 

Regina's  black  eyes  glistened  with  tears. 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  g53 

"  Did  you  see  him  wlieii  he  was  young  ?"  said 
she. 

"  Did  I  see  him  ?  Yes." 

"And  did  you  love  him,  as  did  all  the  others?" 

"More  than  all  the  others,  my  lady." 

"And  you  love  him  still  ?" 

"Yes,  I  love  him  .  .  .  much.  Like  vou.  But 
you  would  kill  him,  and  I  would  die  for  him." 

Regina  sprang  up,  weeping,  clasped  Meri  in 
her  arms  and  kissed  her. 

"Do  not  think  that  I  wish  to  kill  him.  .  .  .  I — 
O  Holy  Virgin! — I,  who  a  thousand  times  would 
have  given  my  life  to  save  his  !  But,  Merchen,  you 
cannot  understand  the  torture,  the  heartrending 
anguish,  ot  loving  a  man,  a  hero,  the  personifica- 
tion of  what  is  highest  and  grandest  in  life,  and 
yet  being  commanded  by  a  holy  faith  to  hate  this 
man,  to  kill  him,  to  persecute  him  to  the'  grave  ! 
You  do  not  know,  happy  one,  who  only  need  to 
love  and  bless,  what  it  means  to  be  tossed  between 
love  and  hate,  like  a  ship  on  high  waves;  to  be 
forced  to  curse  one  whom  you  must  bless  even  in 
death,  and  then  to  sit  within  the  walls  of  a  prison, 
a  prey  to  the  conflicting  feelings  which  incessantly 
strive  for  supremacy  in  your  innermost  soul.  Ah, 
there  was  a  night  when!  tried  to  reconcile  my  love 
with  my  faith,  and  to  lead  him,  the  mighty  one,  in 
the  wav  of  blessedness.  If  the  saints  had  allowed 
my  weak  voice  to  overcome  his  unbelief,  then  the 
poor  Regina  would  have  followed  him  with  joy  as 
his  humblest  slave,  his  whole  life  through,  and 
received  in  her  breast  all  the  lances  and  balls  which 
sought  his  heart.  But  the  saints  did  not  grant  me, 
unworthy  one,  so  great  an  honor;  and  therefore  I 
now  sit  here,  a  prisoner  on  account  of  my  faith  and 
my  love;    and  even  if  an  angel  broke  down    the 


254  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

prison  walls  and  said  to  me:  'Fly!  your  country 
awaits  you!'  then  I  would  answer:  'It  is  his  will, 
the  beloved  for  whose  sake  I  suffered  and  for  whose 
sake  I  remain.'  .  .  .  And  you  still  believe  that  I 
wish  to  kill  him!  " 

Regina  wept  long  and  bitterly,  with  all  the  vio- 
lence of  a  passion  which,  long  repressed,  suddenly 
bursts  into  flame,  Meri  stroked  the  black  locks 
from  her  brow,  looked  mildly  and  tenderly  into 
the  tearful  eyes,  and  said,  with  prophetic  inspira- 
tion: "Do  not  weep;  the  day  will  come  when  you 
will  be  able  to  love  him  without  cursing  him." 

"  That  day  will  never  come,  Merchen!  " 

"Yes,  the  day  will  come,  when  King  Gustaf 
Adolf  is  dead." 

"Oh,  then  may  it  never  come!  Rather  would 
I  suffer  all  my  life;  since  it  is  for  his  sake." 

"  Yes,  lady,  the  day  will  come.  Not  because 
you  are  young  and  he  is  older.  But  have  you 
never  heard  it  said  of  a  child  who  was  gentler  and 
better  than  other  children:  '  It  will  not  live  long, 
it  is  too  good  for  this  world! '  So  it  seems  to  me 
about  King  Gustaf  Adolf.  He  is  too  great,  too 
noble,  too  good,  to  live  long.  God's  angels  wish 
to  have  him  before  Ids  body  withers  and  his  soul 
grows  weary.  Believe  me,  tliey  will  take  him 
from  us." 

Regina  looked  at  her,  almost  terrified. 

"  Who  are  you,  who  speak  such  words?  .  .  . 
How  your  eyes  glitter!  You  are  not  the  one  you 
seem.  Who  are  you,  then?  .  .  .  Oh,  Holy  Virgin, 
protect  me! " 

And  Regina  started  up,  with  all  the  supersti- 
tion which  belonged  to  her  time.  Doubtless  she 
could  not  have  accounted  for  her  feai-;  but  Meri's 
conversation  liad  from  the  first  seemed  strange  to 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  255 

her,  coming  from  the  mouth  of  ;ui  uncultivated 
peasant  woman  in  this  barbarous  land. 

"Who  am  I?"  repeated  Meri,  with  unchanged 
mildness.  "I  am  a  woman  who  loves  ;   that  is  all." 

"  And  you  say  the  king  will  die?  " 

"  God  alone  prevails  over  human  destiny,  and 
the  greatest  among  mortals  is  still  but  mortal." 

At  this  moment  some  one  turned  the  key  of  the 
door,  and  Lady  Martha  entered,  more  solemn  than 
usual,  and  also  somewhat  paler.  She  wore,  instead 
of  her  bright  striped  woolen  jacket,  a  deep  mourn- 
ing attire,  and  her  wiiole  appearance  indicated 
something  unusual.  Regina  and  Meri  both  started 
at  the  sight. 

Meri  became  pale  as  death,  went  straight  to 
Lady  Martha,  looked  her  sharply  in  the  face,  and 
said,  monotonously,  with  great  effort: 

"  The  king  is  dead!  " 

"You  know  it  already?"  answered  Lady 
Martha,  surprised.  "God  preserve  us!  the  bad 
news  came  an  hour  ago  by  a  courier  from  Tornea." 

Regina  sank  down  in  a  swoon. 

Meri,  although  her  heart  was  breaking,  retained 
her  self-possession,  and  tried  to  restore  Regina. 

"The  king  has  then  fallen  on  the  battle-field, 
in  the  midst  of  victory?"  asked  she. 

"  On  the  -.battlefield  at  Liitzen,  the  sixth  of 
November,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  glorious  victory," 
replied  Lady  Martha,  more  and  more  surprised  at 
Meri's  knowledare  of  the  events. 

"Awake,  gracious  lady,"  said  Meri  to  Regina; 
"he  has  lived  and  died  like  a  hero,  worthy  the 
admiration  of  the  whole  world.  He  has  fallen  in 
the  hour  of  triumph,  in  the  highest  lustre  of  his 
glory;  his  name  will  live  in  all  times,  and  this 
name  we  will  both  bless." 


256  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Regina  opened  her  dreamy  eyes,  and  clasped 
her  hands  in  prayer.  "  Oh,  Holy  Virgin,"  said  she, 
"I  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  let  him  go  in  his 
greatness  from  the  world,  and  thus  taken  away  the 
curse  which  rested  upon  my  love!" 

And  Meri  kneeled  at  her  side  in  prayer. 

But  below,  in  the  castle-yard,  stood  a  tall 
white-haired  old  man,  his  hard  features  distorted 
by  grief  and  despair. 

'""  Curse  upon  my  work!  "  said  he.  "  My  plan  is 
frustrated  beforehand,  and  the  object  for  which  I 
have  lived  slips- from  my  grasp.  Oh,  fool  that  I  was 
to  count  upon  a  human  being's  life-thread — to  hope 
that  the  king  would  acknowledi^e  his  own,  and 
live  until  the  son  of  Aaron  Bertila's  dausrhter  had 
time  to  win  a  brilliant  fame  in  war,  and  ascend  to 
the  Swedish  throne!  The  king  is  dead,  and  my 
descendant  is  only  a  boy,  who  will  soon  be  lost 
among  the  crowd.  Now  it  is  only  wanting  for  him 
to  obtain  a  nobleman's  coat  of  arms  and  place  him- 
self with  tiie  rest  of  the  vampires  between  the 
only  true  powers  of  the  state,  the  king  and  the 
people.  Fool,  fool  that  I  was!  The  king  is  dead! 
Go,  old  Bertila,  into  the  srrave — to  the  fratricide 
King  John,  and  the  destroyer  of  aristocracy,  King 
Charles,  and  bury  thy  proud  plans  among  the  same 
worms  which  have  already  consumed  Prince  Gustaf 
and  Karin  Mansdotter!  " 

And  the  old  man  seized  Meri,  who  just  then 
came  out,  violently  by  the  hand,  and  said: 

"Come,  now  we  have  neither  of  us  anything 
more  to  do  in  the  world!  " 

"Yes,"  said  Meri,  with  suppressed  grief,  "  we 
both  have  still  a  son!  " 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  257 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE   BATTLE    OP    NORDLINGEN. 

THE  Swedish  lion  had  liitherto,  through  the 
agency  of  Gustaf  Adolf  and  liis  men,  ad- 
vanced from  victory  to  victory,  overthrowing  all 
adversaries  by  his  tremendous  blows.  But  the 
day  of  misfortune  came  at  last,  in  a  great  and  mur- 
derous battle,  wherein  the  Swedish  arms  suffered  a 
bloody   defeat. 

Wallenstein,  the  insatiable  yet  indispensable, 
had  died  a  traitor's  death  in  Eger.  Gallas,  the 
destroyer  of  armies,  overran  middle  Germany,  took 
Reo-ensburw',  and  advanced  ao-ainst  the  free  citv  of 
Nordliiigen,  in  Swabia.  Duke  Bernhard  and  Gus- 
taf Horn  hurried  with  the  Swedish  army  to  its 
defence.  Tiiey  had  oidy  seventeen  thousand  men, 
while  Gallas  had  thirty-three  thousand. 

"  Let  us  attack,"  said  the  duke. 

''Let  us  wait,"  said  Horn. 

They  expected  five  thousand  men  as  a  rein- 
forcement; and  fourteen  days  elapsed.  Then 
Nordlingen  needed  supplies,  and  began  to  signal 
with  beacon  fires  on  the  towers  at  nijxht.  A^'ain 
the  duke  wished  to  attack;  again  Horn  preferred 
to  fortify  himself  and  relieve  the  city  without 
battle.  They  called  him,  the  brave  man,  a  coward; 
and,  indignant,  but  with  dark  forebodings,  he  re- 
solved to  fight.  But  the  Swedes  went  to  the  con- 
flict confident  of  victory;  for  repeated  successes 
had  made  them  over-bold. 
R  11* 


258  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

• 

Tlie  battle  was  fous^lit  on  the  2-itli  of  August, 
1634.  Outside  Nordlingen  are  forest-crowned 
heights  called  Arensberg,  and  between  these  and 
the  city  is  a  smaller  height.  Upon  the  latter  the 
Imperialists  had  constructed  three  eartli works. 

The  Swedish  army  occupied  Arensberg;  Horn 
on  the  rio-ht  and  the  duke  on  the  left  win"-.  The 
■watchword  was  the  same  as  at  Breitenfeld  and 
Liitzen:   God  with  us! 

Early  in  the  morning  a  heavy  rain  fell.  Once 
more  tlie  prudent  Horn  wished  to  wait,  but  the 
duke  was  in  command,  and  ordered  an  advance. 
Horn  obeyed,  and  the  right  wing  marched  down 
into  the  valley  between  the  heiglits.  The  impa- 
tience of  the  cavalry  hastened  the  attack.  From 
the  verv  bescinnino:,  it  was  unfavorable.  The  Im- 
perialists'  cannon  in  the  earthworks  made  breaches 
in  the  ranks  of  the  cavalry,  and  the  enemy's  supe- 
rior force  compelled  them  to  retire.  Horn  sent 
two  brigades  to  storm  the  middle  earth woik.  They 
took  it,  and  pursued  the  enemy.  Piccolomini 
checked  their  course,  and  drove  tliem  back  to  the 
earthworks.  There  the  powder  happened  to  take 
fire.  With  a  deafening  explosion  the  earthworks 
flew  into  the  air,  and  several  hundred  Swedes  and 
Finns  with  it.     This  was  the  first  calamity. 

Upon  this  position,  however,  depended  the  vic- 
tory. For  a  moment  the  spot  was  vacant;  Picco- 
lomini's  soldiers,  frightened  by  the  report  and  the 
destruction,  could  not  be  persuaded  to  go  there. 
Finally  they  did  so.  Horn  asked  for  help,  in  order 
to  expel  them.  The  duke  sent  the  young  Bohe- 
mian, Tluirn,  with  his  yellow  regiment.  He  made 
a  mistake,  attacked  the  wrong  earthwork,  and  en- 
gaged with  a  largely  superior  force.  Seventeen 
times  he  attacked  the  enemy,  and  as  often  was  he 


FIRE  AMD   WATER.  259 

repulsed.  In  vain  did  Horn  storm  the  height. 
Thurii's  error  was  the  second  cahimity. 

On  tiie  left  wins-  the  duke  had  be<>-un  the  battle 
against  the  artillery  aiid  cavalry.  At  the  first  en- 
counter the  Imperialists  were  repulsed,  and  the 
duke's  German  cavalry  pursued  them  with  loose 
rein  and  disordered  ranks.  But  Tilly's  spirit 
seemed  that  day  to  give  the  Imperialists  new 
courage.  They  opposed  their  well-ordered  and 
superior  ranks  to  the  assailants,  checked  them,  and 
drove  them  back  with  loss.  The  duke  tried  to  get 
reinforcements  into  NSrdlingen,  but  failed.  In 
vain  did  he  drive  Gallas  before  him.  New  masses 
of  the  enemy  constantlv  blocked  his  wav,  and  in 
his  rear  the  Croats  plundered   his  baggage-wagons. 

It  was  about  noon.  Horn's  troops  liad  endured 
the  fire  of  the  enemy  for  eight  consecutive  hours, 
and  were  worn  out  with  wounds  and  fatigue. 
With  every  hour  their  hopes  of  victory  sank,  but 
their  courage  remained  the  same,  unflinching  and 
persistent.  They  had  observed  the  disorder  in 
their  left  wing.  Down  in  the  valley  things  were  in 
a  desperate  condition.  Piccolomini's  bullets  every 
instant  fell  in  the  underbrush,  and  spriid<led  the 
sundered  branches  with  blood.  Then  Horn  pro- 
posed to  withdraw  to  Arensberg,  and  the  duke,  who 
was  in  distress,  was  obliged  at  last  to  consent.  He 
considered  the  matter  nearly  two  hours;  and  these 
two  hours  he  would  afterwards  have  been  willing 
to  buy  back  with  his  own   blood. 

It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Horn 
ordered  the  Finnish  cavalrvto  make  a  feigneil  at- 
tack,  so  as  to  cover  the  retreat,  and  began,  like  a 
prudent  general,  to  witiidraw  in  good  order.  The 
Imperialists  perceived  his  intention,  and  pressed  on 
with  double  force.     They  began  to  hope,  what  they 


260  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

had  never  dared  to  hope  before,  tliat  even  the 
Swedes  niight  be  conquered;  and  Piccolomini's 
dumpy  figure  flew  through  the  ranks,  urging-  his 
men  to  bear  down  with  their  collected  forces  upon 
the  unprotected  sides  of  the  Swedish  columns, 
open  them,  and  crush  them. 

In  the  valley  behind  the  Swedes,  and  between 
the  heights,  flowed  a  stream  witli  steep  banks,  and 
swollen  from  abundant  rains.  At  tlie  little  village 
of  Hirnheim  the  stream  was  spanned  Iiy  a  single 
bridge,  and  this  point  Horn  had  guarded  in  good 
season,  in  order  to  secure  the  retreat.  The  artil- 
lery passed  first  over  the  bridge,  and  reached 
Arensberjr  heiohts  in  safetv.  The  first  columns  of 
Horn's  division  liad  also  reached  Hirnheim  and 
the  rest  were  only  a  short  distance  from  it,  when  a 
new  calamity  occurred — the  third  and  most  disas- 
trous of  this  day  of  calamities.  Duke  Bernhard 
had  undertaken  to  check  the  enemy  with  his  divi- 
sion, until  Horn  and  his  men  had  crossed  the 
stream.  But  too  ^oon  he  discovered  that  in  this 
he  had  consulted  his  bravery  rather  than  his  pru- 
dence. The  enemy's  forces  became  more  and  more 
concentrated,  and  their  attack  increased  in  violence. 
Three  times  De  Werth  charged  the  duke's  cavalry; 
three  times  was  i)e  repulsed.  The  fourth  time  he 
broke  through  the  duke's  lines.  The  latter  sent  a 
squadron  to  take  him  in  the  flank.  In  vain.  Be- 
side himself  with  rage,  the  duke  snatched  his  gold- 
embroidered  banner  from  an  ensign's  hand,  and, 
follovved  by  his  bravest  men,  rushed  into  the  thick- 
est rar.ks  of  the  enemy.  All  in  vain.  His  brave 
men  fell,  his  horse  was  shot  from  under  him,  the 
banner  was  torn  from  his  hand;  wounded  and  over- 
powered, he  came  near  being  taken  prisoner,  when 
a  young  officer  at  his  side  gave  him  his  horse,  and 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  261 

he  escaped  with  difficulty.  His  foot-soldiers  had 
already  fled,  unable  to  contend  against  the  cavalry 
on  the  plain;  and  when  the  duke  galloped  away, 
bleeding,  and  with  loose  reins  the  whole  division 
followed  him  in  the  wildest  fliorht,  believing  that 
all  was  lost. 

Just  at  this  moment,  Horn's  infantry  crossed 
the  narrow  bridge.  Then  arose  from  the  rear  con- 
fused cries  that  the  battle  was  lost  and  the  enemy 
close  ac  their  heels.  First,  single  horsemen,  then 
whole  squads  of  the  duke's  cavalry,  rushed  along 
the  road  to  the  brido-e,  rode  in  amoiio:  the  foot 
soldiers,  trainpled  some  under  their  horses'  feet, 
and  threw  the  rest  into  terrible  confusion.  Horn 
tried  to  make  his  voice  heard,  his  nearest  officers 
tried  to  stay  the  horsemen's  frantic  course;  but 
without  avail.  On  the  narrow  brida^e  evervthinor 
was  crowded  pell-mell:  men,  horses,  wagons,  the 
dead  and  livina:  tog-ether;  and  finally  the  duke's 
whole  division  rushed  to  this  fatal  spot.  Like 
lightning  Piccolomini's  division  was  in  the  wake  of 
the  fugitives;  he  sent  some  light  cannons  up  on 
the  heights,  discharging  them  among  the  thickest 
masses  of  human  beings,  where  every  ball  made  a 
broad  sweep  of  dead  and  wounded.  Instantly  the 
Croats  were  there  also;  and  now  the  cannons  had 
to  cease,  so  as  not  to  kill  both  friend  and  foe.  The 
long  pikes  and  broad  swords  of  the  Imperial 
cavalry  made  dreadful  havoc.  All  that  bore  the 
name  of  Swede  or  Finn  were  doomed  to  destruc- 
tion. 

Gustaf  Horn,  of  Kankas,  the  valiant  and  judi- 
cious Finnish  general,  whom  Gustaf  Adolf  called 
his  "right  hand,"  and  who  from  the  beginning  had 
dissuaded  from  this  unfortunate  battle,  was  the 
last  to  retain  courage  and  self-possession  at  this 


262  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

fearful  moment,  the  last  to  give  up.  With  the 
remnants  of  three  regiments,  he  had  taken  his  post 
at  the  bridge,  and  the  fleeing  tiirong  surged  by 
him,  without  being  able  to  draw  him  into  the  cur- 
rent. Tlie}'^  conjured  him  to  save  his  life;  but  to 
these  appeals  he  opposed  his  stubborn  Finnish  will, 
and  held  his  post.  Tlie  enemy  could  scarcely  be- 
lieve their  eyes  when  they  saw  iiim  not  only  stand 
his  ground,  but  boldly  attack.  For  a  moment  the 
pursuit  was  checked — the  only  thing  wliich  Horn 
hoped  to  gain  by  his  intrepid  onset.  Gallas  sent 
one  of  the  best  Spanish  brigades  against  him. 
Horn  drove  them  back  with  bloody  iieads.  Intoxi- 
cated witli  triumph,  ]Je  Werth  fell  upon  him  with 
his  dragoons.  FJqually  bloody  was  their  reception. 
From  all  directions  the  enemy's  circle  closed  in, 
and  Horn  was  attacked  from  three  sides  at  once. 
They  offered  him  life  if  he  would  surrender.  He 
answered  with  a  sword-thrust,  and  his  men  gave 
the  same  response.  Not  one  of  them  asked 
quarter.  At  last,  vyhen  nearly  all  around  him  had 
fallen,  he  was  overpowered  by  numbers  and  taken 
prisoner,  after  which  the  few  surviving  champions 
surrendered. 

Wlien  the  Swedish  army,  in  full  flight,  rushed 
over  Arensi)erg,  Duke  Bernhard  of  Saxen-Weimar 
tore  his  long  l.air,  and  exclaimed,  in  his  despair, 
that  he  was  a  fool,  but  Horn  was  a  wise  man.  At 
a  later  period,  the  duke  comforted  himself  with 
Alsace;  but  that  day  he  had  reason  to  repent  liis 
precipitancy.  Six  thousand  Swedes  and  Finns, 
and  with  them  their  Geiinan  alles,  covered  the 
blocd-stained  heights  of  Nordling-en;  six  thousand 
were  taken  ])risoners,  among  tliem  tlie  two  Finns, 
Horn  and  Wittenberg,  who  were  ti'eated  very  hon- 
orably by  the  enemy.     Of  the  other  ten  thousand, 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  263 

one-lialf  were  wounded,  and  most  of  the  remain- 
injr  rner'cenaries  deserted.  The  army  had  lost  four 
thousand  baog a oe- wagons,  three  hundred  flags, 
and  all  the  artillery.  A  miserable  remnant  made 
its  way  to  Mentz,  plundering  as  it  went,  and  sufier- 
ing'  from  extreme  want. 

More  than  the  loss  of  these  twelve  thousand 
men  was  the  loss  of  Sweden's  martial  honor,  and 
the  restoration  to  the  enemv  of  their  confidence  in 
victory.  The  battle  at  Nordlingen  became  the 
turning-point  in  the  Thirty-Years'  War,  and  ex- 
cited mingled  joy  and  consternation  throughout 
Europe,  ui;til  Bauer's  genius  and  success  restored 
to  the  Swedish  arms  their  lost  lustre. 

Amoiio-  those  who  fought  to  the  last  bv  Horn's 
side,  at  the  bridge,  were  the  East  Bothnians  and 
our  old  friend  Captain  Larsson.  The  little  thick- 
set captain  had  on  that  occasion  no  time  to  open 
his  voluble  mouth,  a  fate  which  had  seldom  hap- 
pened to  him.  His  whole  round  figure  dripped 
with  sweat  in  the  summer  heat;  he  had  been  fight- 
insf  since  the  dawn,  vet  had  not  received  the 
smallest  scratoli  on  his  fleshy  frame.  It  must  be 
said,  to  his  honor,  that  at  Nordlingen  he  thought 
little  of  either  Rhine  wine  or  Bavarian  nuns,  but 
faithfully  cut  and  thrust  as  best  he  could.  We  will 
not,  however,  affirm  that  he  impaled  thirty  Impe- 
rialists on  the  point  of  his  trusty  sword,  as  he 
afterward  asserted  in  good  faith.  He  was  one  of 
those  who  were  taken  prisoner  with  Horn;  and 
what  most  provoked  the  good  captain  was  not  his 
capture,  but  the  vexation  of  seeing  the  Croats 
afterwards  eTnpty  at  tlieir  ease  the  Swedish  stock 
of  wine,  which  they  had  taken  with  the  baggage- 
wagons. 

Another    of    our    friends,    Lieutenant    Bertel, 


264  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

fouo;;ht  the  wliole  day  at  the  duke's  side.  He  it 
was  who  offered  his  liorsc  when  the  duke's  horse 
was  shot.  That  the  duke  did  not  fororet  this  ser- 
vice, we  will  by  and  by  see.  Bertel  was,  like 
Larsson,  engaged  in  the  hottest  conflict;  but,  less 
fortunate  than  tlie  lalter,  he  received  several 
wounds,  and  was  finally  borne  along  with  the 
stream  of  fugitives  to  Arensberof.  Almost  without 
knowing  how,  he  found  himself  the  next  dav  far 
from  the  battle-field,  and  proceeded  with  the  frag- 
ments of  the  duke's  army  to  Mentz. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

"VXT^E  are  now  at  Epiphany,  in  the  mid-winter 
VV  of  1G35.  In  the  large  sitting-room  of 
Aaron  Bert'la,  in  Storkvro,  a  fire  of  pine  lon^s 
crackles  on  the  spacious  hearth;  for  at  that  time 
heavy  forests  still  surrounded  the  fertile  fields. 
Outside,  a  snow  storm  is  raging,  with  sweepinor 
blasts;  the  w^ilves  howl  on  the  ice  of  the  stream; 
away  in  the  clefts  of  the  hill  the  hungry  lynx 
prowls  stealthily  around. 

It  is  Eoipiiany  evening,  an  hour  or  two  after 
sunset.  The  Storkyro  peasant-king  sits  in  his 
high-backed  chair,  at  a  little  distance  from  the 
hearth,  listenino;  with  distracted  thoughts  to  his 
daughter  Meri,  who,  by  the  light  of  the  fire,  reads 
aloud  a  chapter  of  Agricola's  Finiiish  New  Tes- 
tament: for  at  that  period  the  whole  Bible  was  not 
yet  translated  into  the  Finnish  language. 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  265 

Bertila  has  grown  very  old  since  we  last  saw 
him,  in  his  full  visror.  The  sreat  thoughts  that 
are  constantly  revolving  under  his  bald  fore- 
head give  him  no  peace;  and  yet  his  bold  plans 
are  now,  after  the  king's  death,  completely 
shattered,  like  shipwrecked  fragments  floating 
around  on  the  tumultuous  billows  of  a  dark 
sea.  Great  and  strong  souls  like  his  gener- 
ally end  by  destroying  themselves.  All  the 
changes  and  misfortunes  of  his  turbulent  life  had 
not  been  able  to  break  his  iron  will;  but  the  grief 
over  a  frustrated  hope,  the  vain  attempt  to  build 
anew  the  fallen  castles  in  the  air,  the  sorrow  of 
seeing  his  own  children  tear  down  his  work — all 
this  preyed  like  an  eager  vulture  upon  his  inner  life. 
A  sino-le  thouo-ht  had  in  two  years  made  him 
twenty  years  older;  and  this  thought  was  presump- 
tuous even  to  madness.     It  ran  thus: 

"  Why  is  not  one  of  my  line  at  this  moment 
King  of  Sweden?" 

At  times  Meri  raises  her  mild  blue  eyes  from 
the  holy  book,  and  regards  her  old  father  with 
searching  disquietude,  Slie,  too,  has  become  older 
in  appearance.  The  quiet  sorrow  is  like  autumn 
in  green  groves:  it  breaks  not,  it  kills  not;  but  it 
makes  the  fresh  leaves  wither  on  the  tree  of  life. 
Merits  glance  is  full  of  peace  and  submission.  The 
thought  wliich  always  shines  within  her  soul,  like 
a  setting  sun,  is  this: 

"  Beyond  the  grave  I  shall  meet  again  the  pride 
of  my  heart;  and  he  will  no  longer  wear  an  earthly 
crown!  " 

'Near  her,  on  the  left,  sits  old  Larsson,  short 
and  tliick  in  form,  like  his  hearty  son.  His  good- 
natured  jovial  face  has  for  the  time  assumed  a 
more  solemn  expression,  befitting  the  holy  reading 
12 


2GG  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


to  whicli  he  listens.  His  hands  are  folded  as  in 
prayer,  save  when,  with  his  usual  thoiightfulness, 
he  heaps  tc)<^ether  tiie  burning  brands,  so  that  Meri 
can  see  better. 

Behind  him  are  devoutly  seated  a  part  of  the 
numerous  laborers;  and  these  groups,  illumined 
by  the  reflection  of  the  fire,  are  completed  by  a 
purring  gray  cat,  and  a  large  shaggy  house-dog, 
which  has  curled  himself  up  in  a  ring  under  Meri's 
feet,  seemingly  proud  to  serve  her  as  a  footstool. 

When  Meri,  in  her  reading,  came  to  tiie  place 
in  Luke,  xvth  chapter,  where  it  speaks  of  the 
Prodigal  Son,  the  old  Bertila's  eyes  began  to 
glisten  with  a  sinister  light. 

"The  reprobate!  "  muttered  he  to  himself.  "To 
waste  one's  inheritance,  what  is  that!  But  to  for- 
get one's  old  father  .  .  .  by  God,  that  is 
shameful!  " 

JVIeii  read  farther,  until  slie  came  to  the  Prodi- 
gal Son's  repentance:  "And  he  arose  and  came  to 
his  father.  But  when  he  was  yet  a  great  way  off, 
his  father  saw  him,  and  had  compassion,  and  ran, 
and  fell  on  his  neck,  and  kissed  l.ini." 

"What  a  simpleton  of  a  fa  hei!"'-aid  Aaron 
Bertila    ao^ain    to    himself.      "He    ought    to    have 

•'"•IT 

bound  him  with  ropes,  and  beaten  him  with  rods, 
ami  driven  him  awav  from  his  house  back  to  his 
riotous  living  and  his  empty  wine-cups!  " 

"  Father!  "  whis]ierpd  Meri,  with  mild  reproach. 
"  Be  merciful,  as  our  Heavenly  Fatlier  is  merciful, 
and  takes  the  lost  children  in  His  arms." 

"And  if  your  son  ever  returns  .  .  "  began 
Larsson,  in  the  same  tone.  But  the  old  man  inter- 
rupted him. 

"Hold  your  tongues,  and  don't  trouble  your- 
selves about  me,"  he  answered,  gruffly.     "  I  have 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  267 

no  longer  any  son  .  .  .  who  falls  in  repent- 
ance at  my  feet,"  added  he,  directly,  when  he  saw 
two  large  clear  pearls  glisten  in  Meri's  eyelashes. 

She  continued:  "  And  the  son  said  unto  him, 
Father,  I  have  sinned  against  Heaven,  and  in  thy 
sight,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy 
son." 

"  Stop  reading  that!  "  burst  out  the  old  man,  in 
a  rage.  "See  that  uiy  bed  is  in  order,  and  let  the 
folks  go  to  rest;  it  is  late." 

At  this  moment  horses'  hoofs  were  heard  out- 
side in  the  creaking  snow.  This  occurrence,  unu- 
sual on  the  evening  of  a  sacred  day,  made  Larsson 
go  to  the  low  window  and  breathe  on  the  frost- 
covered  pane,  so  as  to  look  out  into  the  storm.  A 
sleigh,  drawn  by  two  horses,  worked  its  way  with 
difficulty  through  the  snowdrifs  into  the  yard. 
Two  men  in  sheepskin  cloaks  jumped  out. 

Seized  with  a  sudden  intuition,  Larsson  hurried 
out  to  meet  the  travellers,  and  quick  as  lightning 
Meri  was  at  fiis  side.  The  door  closed  creakingly 
behind  them,  and  there  was  some  minutes'"  delay 
before  it  opened  again.  And  now  a  j^oung  man  in 
a  soldier's  garb  entered,  with  bowed  head,  threw 
aside  his  plumed  hat,  white  with  the  snow,  and 
going  straight  to  old  Bertila,  knelt  down,  and  bent 
his  beautiful  curly  head  still  lower,  as  he  said: 

"Father,  I  am  here,  and  ask  your  blessing!" 

And  behind  him  stood  Meri  and  the  old  Larsson, 
both  with  clasped  hands,  and  raised  their  beseech- 
ing eyes  to  the  stern  old  man,  with  the  same 
words: 

"Father,  here  is  thy  son;  give  him  thy  bless- 
ing! " 

For  a  moment  Bertila  seemed  to  struggle  with 
himself;  his  lips  trembled  slightly,  and    his   hand 


268  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

was  unconsciously  stretched  out,  as  if  to  lift  up 
the  youth  at  his  feet.  But  soon  his  bald  head  rose 
still  higher,  his  hand  drew  back,  his  sharp  eyes 
flashed  more  darkly  than  ever,  and  his  lips  trembled 
no  lono-er. 

"Go!  "  said  he,  shortly  and  sternly;  "go,  you 
apostate  boy,  back  to  your  brother  noblemen,  and 
your  sisters,  the  fine  ladies.  What  do  you  seek  in 
the  simple  peasant's  cottage,  which  you  despise? 
Go!  I  have  no  longer  any  son!  " 

But  the  youth  went  not. 

"  Do  not  be  angry,  my  father,"  said  he,  "  if  in 
my  youthful  ambition  I  have  at  any  time  trespassed 
against  vour  commands.  Who  sent  me  out  among: 
the  illustrious  and  great  ones  of  earth,  to  win  fame 
and  honor?  Who  bade  me  go  to  the  war,  to  en- 
noble my  peasant  name  with  chivalric  deeds? 
Wiio  exposed  me  to  the  temptation  of  all  the  bril- 
liant examples  which  clustered  round  the  king? 
You,  and  you,  and  again  you,  my  father;  and  now 
you  thrust  away  your  son,  who  for  your  sake  twice 
refused  a  title  of  nobility." 

"You!  "  exclaimed  the  old  man,  with  overflow- 
ing anger.  "You  renounce  a  title  of  nobility! — 
you,  who  have  blushed  for  your  peasant  name  and 
taken  anotiier  more  imposing?  No,  on  your  knees 
have  you  begged  for  a  coat  of  arms.  What  do  I 
know  about  its  being  offered  to  you? — what  is  that 
to  me?  I  only  know  that  since  your  earliest  child- 
hood T  have  striven  to  implant  in  your  soul,  recre- 
ant, that  there  are  no  rightful  powers  other  than 
khig  and  2^eople;  that  all  who  push  themselves 
between,  whether  they  bear  the  name  of  aristo- 
crats, ecclesiatics,  or  v^hatever  else,  are  a  mon- 
strosity, a  ruin,  a  curse  to  government  and  country 
.     All  this  I  have  tried  to  inculcate  in  you; 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  209 

and  the  fruit  of  my  teacliiiig-s  has  been  that  you 
have  smug-gled  yourself  among  this  nobility,  which 
I  hate  and  despise;  th  it  you  have  coveted  its 
empty  tides,  paraded  its  extravagant  display,  im- 
bibed its  prejudices,  and  now  you  stand  here,  in 
your  father's  hous(»,  with  a  lie  on  your  lips  and 
aristocratic  vanity  in  your  heart.  Go,  degenerate 
son!  Aaron  Bertila  is  vs^liat  he  has  always  been  — 
a  peasant!     He  rejects  and  curses  you,  apostate!  " 

With  these  words,  the  old  man  turned  away, 
and  went,  with  a  firm  step  and  a  high  head,  into 
the  little  bedchamber,  leaving  Bertel  still  on  his 
knees. 

"Hear  me,  father!  "  cried  Bertel  after  him,  as 
he  quickly  unbuttoned  his  coat  and  took  out  a 
folded  paper;  "this  paper  I  had  meant  to  tear  in 
pieces  at  your  feet!  " 

But  the  old  man  did  not  hear  him;  the  paper 
fell  to  the  floor,  and  when  Larsson,  a  moment  later, 
unfolded  and  read  it,  it  was  found  to  contain  a 
diploma  from  the  Regency  m  Stockholm,  made  at 
the  solicitation  of  Duke  Bernhard  of  Weimar, 
conferring  upon  Gustaf  Bertel,  captain  of  horse  in 
the  life-guards,  a  patent  of  nobility,  and  a  coat  of 
arms  with  the  name  of  JBertelskold. 

While  all  in  the  house  were  still  bevpildered  by 
the  old  Bertila's  infiexibilitv,  three  of  Ladv  Martha's 
soldiers  from  Korsholm  entered  in  great  haste. 

"  Halloa,  boys!  "  exclaimed  they  to  the  laborers. 
"Have  you  seen  her?  Here  is  something  that 
pays.  Two  hundred  silver  dollars  reward  to  him 
who  seizes  and  brings  back,  dead  or  alive,  Lady 
Regina  von  Emmeritz,  state-prisoner  at  Kors- 
holm." 

At  the  sound  of  this  name  Bertel  was  roused 


270  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


from  his  stupefying  grief;  he  sprang  up,  and  seized 
the  speaker  (w  the  collar. 

"  Wietchf  what  do  you  saj-^?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Well,  well;  be  a  little  more  careful  when  you 
speak  to  the  servants  of  his  royal  majesty  and  the 
crown.  I  tell  you  that  the  German  traitor — the 
Papistical  witch,  Lady  von  Emmeritz,  succeeded  in 
escaping  last  night  from  Korsholin  castle,  and  that 
he  who  does  not  help  to  catch  her  is  a  traitor  and 

&•  •  •  • 

The  man  had  not  time  to  end  his  sentence  be- 
fore a  blow  from  Bcrtel's  strong  arm  laid  him  at 
full  length  oil  the  floor. 

"  Ha,  my  father,  you  have  so  wished ! "  ex- 
claimed the  youth;  and  in  a  flash  he  was  outside 
the  door,  and  in  his  sleigh,  which  the  next  instant 
was  heard  driving  away  through  the  raging  storm. 


CHAPTER  VUI. 

THE    FUGITIVE. 

LET  us  now  direct  our  attention  to  the  where- 
abouts of  Lady  Regina,  and  see  what  has 
led  her  to  exchange  the  tender  care  of  Lady 
Martha  for  the  adventurous  experiment  of  fleeing, 
in  mid-winter,  throuarh  a  strano:e  reijion  filled  with 
desert  tracts,  where  she  was  entirely  ignorant  of 
the  roads,  and  was  not  able  even  to  make  herself 
understood  in  the  language  of  the  country. 

We  sliould  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  our 
story  is  laid  in  a  time  when  Catholicism  and 
Lutheranism  were  engaged   in  the   sharpest   con- 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  271 

flict;  wlieii  Lutheraiiism,  excited  l)y  the  violence 
of  tlie  strujro-le,  was  as  little  inclined  to  religious 
tolerance  as  Catholicism  itself.  Ladv  Martha  was 
now  thoroughly  possessed  of  the  idea  that  she  was 
in  duty  hound  to  convert  Lady  Reoina  to  the 
Lutheran  faith;  and  from  this  well-meant  but  futile 
endeavor,  no  one  could  dissuade  her.  She  there- 
fore continued,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  to 
torment  the  poor  gii-l  with  her  pertinacity; — some- 
times with  books,  sometimes  with  exhoitations, 
sometimes  with  persuasions  and  threats,  or  promises 
of  freedom;  ;ind  when  Regina  refused  to  read  the 
books  or  listen  to  the  preachitig,  the  zealous  old 
lady  had  pra\^ers  read  in  her  prisi  ner'sroom  morn- 
ing- and  evening-,  and  had  services  held  there  on 
Sundays.  All  these  means  were  wasted  on  what 
Lady  Miirtl-.a  called  Regina's  stubboi-nness.  The 
more  the  former  exerted  herself,  the  calmer,  colder, 
and  more  impassive  became  her  prisoner.  Regina 
regarded  herself  as  a  martyr  to  her  faith,  and  en- 
dured, with  apparent  ii;difference,  all  humiliations, 
for  the  sake  of  the  holy  cause. 

But  within  the  young  girl  of  nineteen  years 
fermented  the  hot  Southern  blood,  and  it  was 
with  groat  difficulty  that  she  could  subdue  it 
into  apparent  calm.  There  were  moments  when 
Reg-ina  would  have  blown  up  Korsholm,  had 
it  been  in  her  power.  But  the  old  gray 
walls  defied  her  silent  rag-e,  and  flight  became 
finally  her  only  means  of  salvation.  Days  and 
years  she  brooded  upon  it;  at  last  she  found  a 
means  of  eluding  Lady  Martha's  vigilance. 

In  Kajana  castle  was  confined  at  that  time 
the  celebrated  and  unfortunate  Johannes  Messe- 
nius,  who  in  his  vouth  had  been  educated  bv  the 
Jesuits  in  Braunsberg,  and  chosen  by  them  to  be- 


272  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

come  the  apostle  of  Catholicism  in  heretic  Sweden. 
Imprisoned  for  his  libels  and  conspiracies  in  the 
interest  of  Sigismund's  party,  he  had  now  for  nine- 
teen years,  subjected  to  the  harshest  treatments,  sat 
there  like  a  mole  in  his  hole,  when  rumors  of  his. 
learning,  his  misfortunes,  and  his  papistical  senti- 
ments, reached  Lady  Regina  in  her  prison.  From 
this  moment,  bold  plans  began  to  agitate  the  young 
girl's  mind. 

One  day,  about  New  Year's  time,  an  itinerant 
German  quack  came  to  Korsholm  witli  his  medicine- 
cliest  on  his  back,  like  Jewish   peddlers  at  a  later 
period.     A  doctor  and  apothecary  thus   combined 
in  one  person  did  a  lucrative   business  at  tlie  ex- 
pense of  the  credulous  people,  and  was  frequently 
consulted   even   by  the   upper  classes;  for   in   the 
whole  country  tliere  was  not  a  single  regular  phy- 
sician, and  only  one  drug-store  in  Abo — and'  even 
tiiis  one  not  especially  vvell  furnished.    No  wonder, 
then,  tiiat  the   man  found   plenty    to   do,   even    at 
Korsliolin,   with    pains,   stomacli-aches,    and   gout; 
nay.  Lady  Martha,  who,  every  iime  she  had  thrashed 
her  male  servants,  complained  of  colic  and  short- 
ness of  breath,  received  the  foreign   doctor  with 
particular  cordiality.     In  a  few  days  the  latter  had 
become  perfectly  at  home  in  the  castle;  and  thus 
it  happened  that  he  was  called  in  to  Lady  Regina, 
who  was  suffering  from  an  obstinate  headaclie. 

Lady  Martha's  usual  craftiness  this  time  failed 
her.  On  a  fine  morning,  two  days  later,  the  young 
Regina,  her  old  Dorthe,  and  the  quack  doctor, 
were  all  missing.  A  window  gratinsr,  which  had 
been  broken  off  from  the  outside,  and  a  rope-ladder, 
left  no  doubt  possible  that  the  quack  had  been  instru- 
mental in  procuring  the  prisoner  a  free  passage  over 
wall  and  ramparts.     Lady  Miirtha,  in  her  amaze- 


FIRE   AMD    WATER.  273 

ment  and  rage,  I'orgot  both  her  colic  and  her  short- 
ness of  breath;  she  stirred  up  the  castle  and  town, 
and  immediately  sent  out  her  soldiers  in  all  direc- 
tions to  catch  the  fuQ,-itives.  It  will  soon  be  seen 
how  far  she  succeeded. 

We  return  for  a  moment  to  Bertel,  whom  we 
find  with  his  heart  full  of  the  most  conflictiria* 
emotions,  hurrying  through  the  stormy  night,  and 
attended  by  his  faithful  Pekka.  The  honest  soul 
could  not  comprehend  a  folly  so  great  as  that  of 
leaving  the  cheerful  fireside  and  the  boiling  por- 
ridge-kettle, where  they  had  but  just  arrived,  for 
snow-drifts  and  wolves  in  the  wild  woods.  And 
Bertel  did  not  comprehend  it  himself.  While  the 
array  lay  in  winter  quarters  in  Germany,  he  had 
obtained  a  furlough,  and  passed  northward  through 
Sweden  to  Tornea,  and  thence  hurried  south 
through  Storkyro  to  Wasa,  which  was  his  secret 
destination.  And  now  he  met  in  one  place  a 
father's  anger,  and  in  the  other  the  empty  walls 
v.'here  she  had  been  and  was  no  more.  Regina  had 
disappeared,  leaving  no  trace. 

"Where  shall  I  drive?"  asked  Pekka,  monoto- 
nously and  gruffly,  when  they  came  out  on  the 
broad  highway,  after  leaving  the  farm  of  the  old 
peasant- king. 

"Wherever  you  please,"  answered  his  master, 
as  gruffly. 

Pekka  turned  his  horses  toward  Wasa,  about 
twenty  miles  distant;  Bertel  noticed  this. 

"Ass!"  cried  he,  "have  I  not  ordered  you  to 
drive  north?" 

"North!"  repeated  Pekka,  shortly;  and  with  a 

sigh  he  turned  his  horses  toward  Ny-Karleby,  full 

forty   miles   away.     At    that    period   they  had   no 

regular  inns,  with  horses  provided  for  the  accom- 

S 


274  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

modatiou  of  travellers.  But  tliere  were  farms  at 
intervals,  where  all  who  travelled  on  government 
business  could  count  on  finding  horses,  wliile  other 
travellers  were  obliged  to  bargain  as  best  they 
could. 

The  parsonages  were  the  general  stopping- 
places  for  the  night,  and  always  had  a  room  in 
order,  where  beds  of  straw  and  a  table  with  cold 
food  stood  hospitably  prepared  for  acquaintances 
and  strangers. 

It  was  therefore  quite  natural  that  Pekka,  with 
his  thoughts  still  on  the  porridge-kettle,  ventured 
to  ask  a  further  question:  Would  they  spend  the 
night  at  Wora  parsonage? 

"  Drive  to  Yliharma,"  answered  the  captain, 
petulantly,  and  wrapped  himself  in  his  long  sheep- 
skin cloak,  for  the  night  wind  blew  icv  cold. 

"  The  devil  take  me  if  I  understand  such 
whims!  "  muttered  Pekka  to  himself,  as  he  turned 
off  into  the  narrow  village  road  leading  northward 
from  Storkyro  toward  Lappo  parish. 

Here  the  snow  had  drifted  several  feet  high 
between  the  fences,  and  the  travelers  could  only 
advance  step  by  step.  After  an  hour's  struggling 
the  horses  were  completely  tired  out  and  stopped 
every  few  steps. 

Bertel,  absorbed  in  his  reveries,  was  scarcely 
aware  of  the  situation.  They  had  left  Kyro's  wide 
plains  behind  them,  and  were  now  in  the  forest  of 
Lappo.  The  silence  of  the  wilderness,  broken  only 
by  the  howling  of  the  storm,  surrounded  the  travel- 
lers on  all  sides;  and  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
there  was  no  trace  of  human  habitation, 

Pekka  had  been  walking  at  the  side  of  the 
sleigh,  raising  it  with  his  broad  shoulders  when  it 
sank  so  deep  in   the  snow  that  the  horses  could 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  275 

not  pull  it.  At  last  even  his  sinewy  arms  were  un- 
equal to  tlie  task;  the  sleigh  stopped  in  the  midst  of 
a  mountain  of  snow. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Bertel,  impatiently;  "what 
is  the  matter?" 

"Nothing,"  replied  Pekka,  calmly,  "except 
that  we  need  neither  undertaker  nor  priest  to  find 
a  grave!" 

"  How  far  is  it  from  here  to  the  nearest  farm?" 

"  Six  or  seven  miles,  I  think." 

"  Do  you  not  see  something  that  resembles  a 
light,  far  away  there  in  the  woods?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  it  looks  like  it  .  .  ." 

"  Unharness  the  horses,  and  let  us  ride  there." 

"No,  dear  master,  these  woods  are  horribly 
haunted,  as  I  know  of  old,  ever  since  the  peasants 
here  beat  their  steward  to  death,  during  the  Club 
War,  and  burned  his  house  and  his  innocent  chil- 
dren ." 

"Nonsense!  I  tell  you  we  will  ride  there." 

"  Well,  it  is  all  the  same  to  me." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  horses  were  taken  out  of 
the  traces,  and  the  two  travellers  mounted  and 
pushed  on  in  the  direction  of  the  light,  which  some- 
times disappeared  and  then  shone  again  between 
the  snow-drifts. 

"  But  tell  me,  Pekka,"  resumed  Bertel,  "  how 
does  the  story  run  about  this  wilderness?  I  re- 
collect that  I  often  heard  them  speak  of  it  in  my 
childhood." 

"  Yes,  my  mother  was  born  here." 

"  Was  there  not  once  a  large  settlement  in  this 
wood?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  it  was  many  hundred  acres  in  ex- 
tent. The  steward  had  laid  it  all  out  for  miles,  as 
far  back  as  King  Gustaf's  time  ;    and  here  grew 


276  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

many  hundred  tons  of  grain,  so  father  has  told  me  ; 
and  the  steward  had  built  a  large  house  here  and 
lived  like  a  prince  in  the  wilderness;  and  then,  as 
I  told  you,  the  peasants  came  and  set  fire  to  the 
place  in  the  night-time,  destroying  not  only  the 
cattle,  but  all  the  people  with  the  exception  of  the 
young  lady  whom  your  father  saved  and  after- 
ward took  for  his  wife.  It  is  very  certain  that  he 
had  a  finger  in  that  pie." 

"And  so  the  place  was  never  built  up  again?" 

"  You  can  imagine  the  fields  were  a  fat  prize, 
and  so  there  were  plenty  of  people  who  undertook 
to  move  here  in  defiance  of  the  devil.  But  the  devil 
was  too  smart  for  them;  he  began  to  stir  up 
such  a  state  of  things  here,  with  ghosts  haunting 
about,  night  and  day,  that  nobody  was  sure  of  his 
life,  far  less  of  his  sinful  soul.  When  people  sat 
in  their  homes,  the  chairs  were  pulled  from  under 
them;  the  porridge-bowl  rolled  of  itself  down  on 
the  floor;  the  stones  were  torn  from  the  walls  and 
hailed  down  around  people's  ears.  If  they  went 
out  in  the  woods,  they  were  no  better  off;  they  had 
to  look  out  sharp  that  the  trees  did  not  tumble  over 
their  heads,  although  the  weather  was  perfectly 
quiet,  and  that  the  ground  did  not  open  under  their 
feet  and  draw  them  down  into  a  bottomless  pit. 
And  when  I  think  that  we  are  now  travelling 
through  the  same  woods  .  .  .  oh,  oh,  I  am  sinking!" 

"  You  simpleton,  it  is  the  pure  snow! — and  then 
you  say  the  people  could  not  stand  it  any  longer?" 

"  Then  they  all  moved  away,  so  that  there  was 
not  even  a  cat  left,  except  one  old  laborer;  but  I 
suppose  he  is  dead  long  ago.  The  whole  settle- 
ment was  deserted  again;  the  ditclies  became  filled 
up,  the  meadows  became  morasses,  and  the  pine- 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  377 

woods  spread  over  the  former  grain-fields.  It  is 
now  forty  years  since  tliat  time  ..." 

Pekka,  who  was  not  in  the  habit  of  making  long 
speeches,  seemed  astonished  at  his  unusual  talk- 
ativeness, and  suddenly  checked  his  flow  of  words, 
as  he  reined  in  his  horse. 

"What  is  it  now?"  asked  Bertel,  impatiently. 

"I  don't  see  the  light  any  more." 

"  Neither  do  I.     It  is  hidden  by  the  trees.'* 

"No,  dear  master,  it  is  not  hidden  by  the  trees; 
it  has  sunk  into  the  earth,  after  decoying  us  here 
into  the  wildest  woods.  Didn't  I  tell  you  tliat  it 
would  be  so?  We  will  never  get  away  from  here 
alive." 

"  For  the  devil's  sake,  ride  on,  and  don't  stop 
here,  or  both  man  and  beast  will  stiffen  with  the 
cold.  It  seems  to  me  I  see  something  like  a  hut 
over  there." 

"Hut  indeed!  it  is  nothing  but  a  big  rock  with 
gray  sides,  from  which  the  wind  has  blown  away 
the  snow.     It  is  all  over  with  us." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  and  ride  on!  Here  we  come 
to  a  p-lade  with  youno-  woods  ...  I  see  something 
there  between  the  snow-drifts." 

"  Saints  protect  us!  We  are  now  on  the  very 
spot  where  the  house  stood.  Don't  you  see  the 
old  chimney  sticking  out  through  the  snow?  Not 
a  step  farther,  master!" 

"  T  am  not  mistaken   ...  it  is  the  hut." 

Bertel  and  his  companion  found  themselves  on 
extremely  uncomfortable  ground,  where  the  horses 
stumbled  at  every  step  over  large  stones,  or  sank 
into  deep  hollows  covered  with  snow.  High  snow^- 
driftsand  felled  trees  madeit  still  worse,  and  obstruc- 
ted the  passage  to  a  dilapidated  hut,  which,  either  by 
chance  or  intention,  was  hidden  behind  two  spread- 


278  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

inar  firs,  with  branches  hana-ina:  to  the  aground. 
The  only  window  of  the  hut  had  a  shutter  which 
was  at  one  moment  blown  open  by  the  wind  and 
then  closed  again,  thus  causing-  the  light  within  to 
show  itself  and  disappe9,r  by  turns. 

Bertel  dismounted  from  his  horse,  tied  it  to  a 
branch  of  the  fir,  and  approached  the  window  to 
glance  inside.  A  secret  hope  gave  wings  to  his 
feet.  He  took  it  for  o-ranted  that  if  the  fugitives 
had  gone  m  a  northerly  direction,  they  could  not 
have  followed  the  main  highway,  but  had  sought  to 
escape  their  pursuers  by  taking  side  roads.  But  in 
this  part  of  East  Bothnia  hundreds  of  small  roads 
at  that  time  crossed  each  other,  all  leading  to 
the  x\.Q\N  settlements  further  east.  What  was  it 
that  told  him  the  fugitives  would  have  chosen  just 
this  road? 

His  heart  beat  when  he  approached  the  window. 
Of  the  four  small  panes,  two  were  of  horn — a  sub- 
stance formerly  used  instead  of  glass;  one  of  them 
was  broken  and  stopped  up  with  moss;  only  the 
fourth  was  of  glass,  but  so  covered  with  ice  and 
snow  tliat  at  first  nothing  could  be  seen  through  it. 
Bertel  breathed  on  the  glass,  but  found  to  his  vex- 
ation that  the  frost  on  the  inside  defied  his  curiosity. 
Just  then  his  horse  neighed. 

It  seemed  ridiculous  to  Bertel  to  stand  spying 
into  a  poor  peasant's  hut.  He  was  already  on  the 
point  of  knocking  at  the  door,  wlien  at  that  instant 
a  shadow  obscured  the  light,  and  the  frost  on  the 
inside  of  the  glass  was  quickly  melted  by  the  breath 
of  a  human  being,  as  curious  to  look  out  as  he  to 
look  in.  Bertel  was  soon  able  to  discern  a  face 
with  burning  eyes,  which,  close  to  the  window, 
stared  out,  as  if  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  horse's 
neighing. 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  279 

The  sight  of  this  face  had  the  effect  of  an 
electric  shock  upon  the  nocturnal  cavalier.  Think- 
ing of  the  beautiful  Regina,  Bertel  had  expected 
a  sight  of  a  more  agreeable  kind.  But  instead  he 
beheld  a  corpse-like  face  surrounded  by  a  black 
tight-fitting  leather  calotte;  and  this  dark  frame 
made  the  pale  face  seem  still  paler. 

Bertel  had  seen  those  features  before,  and  when 
he  collected  his  thoughts,  the  memory  of  a  terrible 
niarht  in  the  Bavarian  woods  rose  within  his  soul. 
Involuntarily  he  drew  back,  and  stopped  a  moment 
irresolute.  This  motion  was  observed  by  Pekka, 
who  liad  remained  on  his  horse  in  order  to  have  re- 
treat open. 

"  Quick!  away  from  here!"  cried  he.  "  I  have 
said  that  nobody  but  the  devil  himself  lives  in 
these  woods." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,"  answered  Bertel,  smiling 
at  his  own  fears  and  what  he  considered  to  be  the 
product  of  his  excited  imagination.  "If  ever  the 
prince  of  darkness  has  taken  human  form,  then  he 
lives  in  this  hut.  But  that  is  just  the  reason  why 
we  will  look  the  worthy  gentleman  in  the  face,  and 
force  him  to  give  us  lodgings  for  the  night.  Halloa 
there!   open  to  some  travellers!" 

These  words  were  accompanied  by  some  violent 
blows  upon  the  door. 


280  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

DON    QUIXOTE    IN    THE    NORTH. 

AFTER  a  long  delay,  the  door  of  the  hut  was 
opened  from  the  inside,  and  an  old  man, 
bowed  with  age,  and  with  a  snow-white  beard,  ap- 
peared at  the  entrance.  Accustomed  by  the  right 
of  war  to  take  what  was  needed,  when  it  was  not 
given  voluntarily,  Bertel  pushed  the  old  man 
aside  and  entered  tlie  miserable  hut  without  cere- 
mony. To  his  great  astonishment,  he  found  it 
empty.  A  half  burnt  pine-torch,  placed  between 
the  stones  of  the  fire-place,  threw  a  ilickering  light 
around  this  abode  of  poverty.  No  door  was  seen 
except  the  entrance;  not  a  living  being  Avas  dis- 
covered, besides  the  old  man  and  a  large  shaggy 
dog  which  lay  stretched  on  the  hearth  and  showed 
his  teeth  to  the  uninvited  guest. 

"Where  is  the  man  in  the  black  leather  hood, 
who  was  here  a  moment  ago?"  asked  Bertel,  sharply. 

"God  bless  your  grace!"  answered  the  old  man, 
humbly  and  evasively,  "who  could  be  here  but 
your  grace?" 

"Out  with  the  truth!  Somebody  must  be  hid- 
den here.  Under  the  lied  .  .  .  no.  Behind  the 
oven  .  .  .  no.  And  yet  you  have  just  had  a  large 
fire  in  the  fire-place.  What?  I  believe  it  is  put 
out  with  water!     Answer!" 

"  It  is  so  cold,  your  grace,  and  the  hut  is  full  of 
cracks  .  .  ." 

Bertel's    suspicions,    once    aroused,    were    not 


FIRE  AND    WATER.  281 

easily  dispelled.  His  eyes  flew  searchingly  around 
the  room,  and  discovered  a  little  object  which  had 
fallen  under  a  bench.  It  was  a  lady's  glove,  fine 
and  soft,  lined  with  hare-skin. 

"  Will  you  confess,  old  wretch?"  burst  out  the 
youth,  excitedly. 

The  old  man  seemed  dismayed,  but  only  for  a 
moment.  He  suddenly  changed  his  manner,  nod- 
ded slyly,  and  pointed  to  the  corner  nearest  the 
fire-place.  Bertel  followed  his  hint;  but  he  had 
taken  only  a  few  steps,  when  the  floor  gave  way 
under  his  feet.  He  had  stepped  into  the  open  hole 
of  a  cellar,  whose  entrance  had  been  hidden  by  the 
heavy  shadow  of  the  fire-place.  Instantly  a  trap- 
door was  closed  over  the  opening,  and  he  heard 
the  rattling  of  a  firm  iron  hasp,  which  made  it 
quite  impossible  for  him  to  raise  the  trap-door 
from  below. 

Bertel  had  fallen  into  one  of  those  holes  under 
the  floor  where  poor  people  keep  roots  and  ale. 
The  hole  was  not  deep,  neither  was  his  fall  very 
dangerous;  but  nevertheless  Bertel  was  furious. 
The  little  glove  had  told  him  the  whole  story. 

She  must'be  here;  she,  the  beautiful,  proud,  un- 
fortunate princess,  whom  he  had  so  long  adored  in 
secret.  How  did  he  know  but  she  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  cruel  robbers?  And  just  now,  when 
he,  after  years  of  longing,  was  so  near  her,  just  now 
when  she  perhaps  needed  his  help  and  protection, 
he  had  been  caught  in  a  miserable  trap,  imprisoned 
in  a  rat-hole,  more  wretched  than  the  hut  itself,  of 
which  the  floor  served  him  for  a  ceiling.  In  vain 
did  he  try  to  raise  the  planks  of  the  floor  by  the 
strength  of  his  shoulders;  they  were  as  unyielding 
as  the  fate  which  had  so  long  mocked  his  dearest 
hopes. 

12* 


283  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Meanwhile  he  could  distinguish  from  the  room 
above  him  a  low  noise,  as  though  several  persons 
were  passing  over  the  floor.  Then  all  became 
silent. 

Bertel's  only  hope  now  was  Pekka,  who  had  not. 
dared  to  enter  the  hut.     But  nothing  was  heard  of 
him;  and  three  or  four  hours  passed  in  a  deathly 
suspense,  which  was  increased  by  the  prospect  of 
perishing  from  hunger  and  cold. 

Then  steps  were  again  heard  overhead;  the 
iron  hasp  was  unfastened  and  the  trap-door  raised. 
Half-frozen,  Bertel  crawled  up  from  the  damp  hole, 
in  the  firm  belief  that  Pekka  had  at  last  discovei-ed 
his  prison.  He  was  met  instead  by  the  old  man 
with  the  snow-white  beard,  who,  humble  and 
obsequious  as  before,  offered  his  hand  to  help 
him  up. 

Enraged,  the  young  soldier  seized  the  old  man 
by  his  bony  shoulder,  and  prepared  to  question 
him  thoroughly. 

"Wretch!"  he  exclaimed,  "are  you  tired  of 
life,  or  do  you  not  know  what  you  are  doing,  mad- 
man! What  should  hinder  me  from  crushing  your 
pitiful  frame  against  the  walls  of  your  own  house?" 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  with  unmoved  mien. 
"  Do  so,  Bertila's  grandson,"  replied  he.     "  Kill, 
if  you  choose,  your  grandmother's  faithful  old  ser- 
vant!    What  use  is  it  for  him  to  live  any  longer?" 

"  My  grandmother's  old  servant,  do  you  say?" 
"  I  am  the  last  survivor  of  all  those  who  formerly 
inhabited  this  fertile  region,  now  a  wilderness.  It 
was  I  who  said  to  Aaron  Bertila,  when  my  master's 
house  was  devastated  with  fire  and  blood:  '  Save 
my  lady!'  and  Bertila  did  it; — cursed  be  he  and 
blessed  at  the  same  time!  He  carried  my  fair  and 
noble   lady  from   the  flames;  and    she,  an    aristo- 


FIRE  AND    WATER.  283 

cratic  maiden,  became  the  arrogant  peasant's  hum- 
ble wife." 

"  But  are  you  crazy,  old  man?  If  you  are  what 
you  say,  why  then  have  you  shut  me  up  in  this 
cursed  hole?  You  must  own  that  your  friendship 
is  of  a  strange  kind." 

"  Kill  me,  sir;  I  am  ninety  years  of  age!  Kill 
me;  I  am     ...     a  Catholic." 

"You!  Well,  by  my  sword;  now  I  begin  to 
understand  you." 

'"  I  am  the  last  Catholic  in  this  country.  I  am 
of  the  time  of  King  Johan  and  King  Sigismund. 
I  was  one  of  the  four  who  buried  this  last  nun  in 
Nadenda  cloister.  For  twenty  years  I  have  not 
heard  mass  or  been  sprinkled  with  holy  water. 
But  all  the  saints  be  praised!  one  hour  before  you 
came  I  had  eaten  of  the  holy  wafer." 

"A  monk  has  been  in  your  hut?" 

"Yes,  sir;  one  of  ours." 

"  And  with  him  was  a  young  girl  and  her  old 
duenna?     Answer." 

"  Yes,  they  accompanied  him." 

"  And  at  my  arrival  you  hid  them     .     .     ." 

"  In  the  loft.     Yes,  your  grace." 

"  Then  you  decoyed  me  into  your  miserable  rat- 
hole,  while  you  let  the  women  and  the  monk 
flee?" 

"  I  do  not  deny  that  it  is  so." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  will  be  your  reward 
for  all  this?" 

"  Anything  —  death,  perhaps." 

"I  shall  spare  your  life,  but  only  on  one  condi- 
tion. You  must  show  me  the  way  of  the  fugi- 
tives." 

"  My  life!     I  have  told  you  I  am  ninety." 

"  And  you  do  not  fear     .     .     .     the  rack?" 


284  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


"  The  saints  grant  T  miglit  be  worthy  so  great 
an  honor!  " 

"  But  if  I  should  burn  you  alive  in  your  own 
hut! " 

"The  holy  martyrs  have  been  burned  at  the 
stake." 

"  No,  old  man,  I  am  no  executioner;  I  have 
learned  in  the  service  of  my  king  to  revere  faith- 
fulness; "  and  Bertel  pressed  the  old  man's  hand 
with  emotion.  "But'one  thing  I  will  tell  you," 
continued  he.  "  You  think  perhaps  that  I  have 
come  to  take  the  fugitives  back  to  prison.  It  is 
not  so.  I  swear  upon  my  knightly  honor  to  de- 
fend Lady  Regina's  freedom  with  my  life,  and  to 
do  all  in  my  power  to  assist  her  flight.  Will  you 
now  tell  me  what  way  she  took?" 

"  No,  your  grace,"  said  the  old  man  calmly. 
"The  young  lady  is  under  the  protection  of  the 
saints  and  a  prudent  man.  You  are  young  and  of 
hot  blood;  you  would  only  plunge  tliem  all  into 
ruin.  Turn  back,  therefore;  you  will  not  find  a 
trace  of  the  fugitives." 

"Bull-head!"  muttered  Bertel,  indignantly. 
"Farewell;  I  shall  get  along  without  your  help." 

"  Remain  here  quietly  till  to-morrow,  your 
grace.  To-day  you  have  the  liberty  to  walk,  if 
you  choose,  six  miles  through  the  high  snow-drifts, 
to  the  nearest  farm.  To-morrow  you  can  ride 
comfortably." 

"  Wretcli!  you  have  sent  the  horses  away?" 

"  Yes,  your  grace.  .  .  .  You  must  be  hun- 
gry now.  Here  is  a  kettle  of  boiled  turnips;  may 
they  suit  your  taste." 

"  Ah!  "  thought  Bertel  to  himself,  as  he  paced 
the  scanty  floor  \vith  hasty  steps:  "Not  for  ten 
bottles  of  Rhine  wine  would   I  have  Larsson   see 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  285 

me  at  this  moment.  He  would  compare  me  to  the 
wandering  Knight  of  Mancha,  who  on  the  way  to 
his  Dulcinea  fell  into  the  most  prosaic  adventures. 
How  shall  I  get  away  from  here  through  these  ter- 
rible snow-drifts?" 

"But,"  added  he  aloud,  "I  have  an  idea;  I  will 
try  if  one  of  the  greatest  amusements  of  my  child- 
hood cannot  serve  me  a  good  turn  now.  Old  man, 
where  do  you  keep  your  snow-shoes?" 

"  My  snow-shoes?  "  replied  the  old  man,  in  con- 
fusion.    "  I  have  none." 

"You  have;  I  see  it  in  your  face.  No  Finn  in 
the  wilderness  is  without  snow-shoes.  Here  with 
them,  quick! " 

And  without  heeding  the  old  man's  excuses, 
Bertel  pushed  open  the  trap-dcor  which  led  to  the 
garret,  and  drew  out  a  splendid  pair  of  snow- 
shoes. 

"  Well,  old  friend,"  exclaimed  the  young  officer. 
"  What  do  you  think  of  my  new  horses?  .  .  . 
I  call  them  mine,  for  I  wager  you  will  sell  them  to 
me  for  these  hard  silver  dollars.  Nimbler  steeds 
have  seldom  hurried  over  high  snow-drifts.  If  you 
have  any  greeting  to  send  to  the  monk  and  Lady 
Regina,  I  will  take  it  with  pleasure." 

"  Do  not  venture  alone  into  the  wilderness," 
said  the  old  man.  "There  is  neither  track  nor 
path;  the  woods  are  many  miles  wide,  and  filled 
with  wolves.     It  will  be  your  certain  death." 

"You  are  wrong,  my  friend,"  replied  Bertel. 
"  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  there  are  traces  in  two 
directions:  one  after  my  horse,  the  other  after  the 
fugitives.  Tell  me,  did  they  go  in  a  sleigh  or  on 
horseback?" 

"  I  think  they  went  on  horseback." 

"  Then  I  am  sure  they  drove.     You  are   a  fin- 


286  TIMES   OF   GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

ished  rogue.  But  I  forgive  you  for  the  sake  of 
your  excellent  snow-shoes.  Farewell.  In  a  couple 
of  hours  I  will  have  found  those  whom  I  seek." 

With  these  words,  Bertel  hurried  away. 

It  was  yet  early  in  the  morning,  at  least  two  or 
three  hours  before  sunrise.  But  fortunately  the 
storm  had  ceased;  the  sky  had  cleared,  and  the 
winter  stars  twinkled  brightly  in  the  blue  arch  of 
heaven.  The  cold  had  increased;  a  heavy  frost 
had  covered  all  the  branches  and  snow-drifts  with 
those  diamonds  of  ice  which  at  once  dazzle  and 
charm  the  wanderer's  eye.  The  sight  of  woods 
and  snow  in  a  star-lit  winter  morning  gives  the 
Northerner  a  peculiar  and  exhilaratino-  feeling. 
There  is  in  this  scene  a  grandeur,  a  splendor,  a 
purity,  a  freshness,  which  carries  him  back  to  the 
impressions  of  childhood  and  the  brilliant  illusions 
of  youth.  There  is  nothing  to  oppress  the  heart 
or  clip  the  soaring  wings  of  fancy;  all  is  there  so 
vast,  so  solemn,  so  free.  One  mij^ht  say  that  na- 
ture, in  this  deep  silence  of  winter  and  night,  is 
dead;  and  yet  she  lives,  warm  and  rich,  in  the  wan- 
derer's breast.  It  is  as  though  she  had  compressed 
into  this  little  spot,  this  solitary  heart  in  the  wil- 
derness, all  her  budding  life,  that  it  might  be  all 
the  more  beautiful  amidst  the  surrounding  crystal- 
lization, the  stillness,  and  the  radiance  of  stars. 

Bertel  experienced  this  feeling  of  freshness  and 
life.  He  was  still  young,  and  open  to  all  impres- 
sions. As  he  hurried  along,  lightly  as  the  wind,  be- 
tween the  trees  and  snow-drifts,  he  felt  like  a  child. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  again  the  boy  who 
flew  over  the  snow  on  Storkyro  plains  to  spread 
his  snares  for  the  heathcock  in  the  woods.  It  is 
true  he  was  a  little  unsteady  in  the  beginning,  from 
lack  of  practice,  when  the  snow-shoes  glided  down 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  287 

the  icy  slopes;  he  occasionally  pushed  unsteadily, 
and  sometimes  stumbled.  But  soon  he  had  re- 
gained his  former  skill,  and  stood  as  firm  as  ever 
on  the  uneven  surface. 

His  task  was  now  to  find  the  track  of  the  fugi- 
tives; but  this  was  no  easy  matter.  He  had  wan- 
dered around  an  hour  in  the  direction  of  Yliharma, 
and  yet  had  not  discovered  the  slightest  clue. 
The  last  flurry  of  tlie  storm  had  obliterated  all 
traces  of  travellers;  he  could  see  only  the  fresh 
track  of  the  wolf,  where  it  had  trotted  through  the 
snow,  and  now  and  then  a  frightened  ptarmigan 
fliew  between  the  snow-covered  branches.  Want 
of  sleep,  hunger  and  fatigue  began  to  exhaust  the 
youth's  strength;  the  cold  increased  as  sunrise  ap- 
proached, and  sprinkled  his  dark  mustache  and 
plumed  hat  with  frost. 

Then  at  last  he  saw,  on  a  forest  road  which  the 
broad  pines  had  shielded  from  the  blast,  the  fresh 
traces  of  runners  and  horses'  feet.  Bertel  fol- 
lowed with  renewed  streno-th;  at  times  the  tracks 
were  lost  in  the  snow,  and  then  appeared  again 
where  the  road  was  sheltered. 

The  yellowish-red  sun  rose  over  the  tree-tops  in 
the  south-east.  The  day  was  cold  and  clear.  In 
all  directions  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  for- 
ests and  snow-drifts.  But  far  away  in  the  north 
a  little  column  of  smoke  rose  toward  the  clear 
morning  sky.  Bertel  strove  for  this  point.  The 
snow-shoes  regained  their  speed,  the  way  seemed 
smoother,  and  at  last  the  weary  adventurer  reached 
a  solitary  farm-house  by  the  side  of  the  highway. 

The  first  person  he  met  was  Pekka,  going  to 
feed  his  horses. 

"Scoundrel!"  cried  Bertel,  with  glad  surprise. 
"Who  sent  vou  here?" 


288  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"Who?"  repeated  Pekka,  equally  delighted 
and  astonished.  "  Well,  I  should  say  that  the 
devil  did  it.  I  waited  and  waited  outside  that 
cursed  old  shanty  in  the  woods,  until  my  eyelids 
became  heavy  and  dropped  together,  as  I  sat  in 
the  snow-drift.  After  a  little  while  I  was  awakened 
by  the  neighing  of  horses;  and  what  did  I  see?  A 
sleigh  just  like  ours,  harnessed  with  two  horses, 
dashing  away  upon  the  road.  It  is  either  my  master 
or  the  devil,  said  I  to  myself,  but  anyway  I  will  fol- 
low him.  Then  I  climbed  upon  the  horse's  back 
again,  and  although  I  was  horribly  hungry  I  fol- 
lowed. Finally  the  horses  became  tired;  I  lost  the 
sleigh  from  sight,  and  thanked  all  the  saints,  both 
Catholic  and  Lutheran,  when  at  last  1  came  here 
to  this  farm,  and  got  a  good  bowl  of  porridge. 
For  if  it  was  hot  at  Liitzen  and  Nordlingen,  then 
it  was  cursedly  cold  in  Yliharma,  that  is  sure." 

"Good!"  said  Bertel,  "they  will  not  escape  us. 
But  do  you  know  one  thing,  Pekka:  there  are  times 
when  hunger  and  sleepiness  are  stronger  than  love 
itself.     Come,  let  us  go  in!" 

And  Bertel  entered,  drank  a  bowl  of  boiled 
milk,  and,  overcome  with  fatigue,  threw  himself  on 
a  straw  bed.  There  for  a  couple  of  hours  we  will 
leave  our  wandering  knight  in  peace. 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  289 


CHAPTER   X. 

KAJANA     CASTLE. 

FAR  away  in  the  North,  where  the  waters  of 
the  vast  and  mighty  seas  roar  in  their  icy 
caverns;  where  the  foam  of  the  cataracts  never 
freezes;  where  the  green  of  the  pines  never  with- 
ers; where  the  gray  and  unyielding  rocks  com- 
press the  foaming  rivers  into  narrow  gorges, — here, 
for  thousands  of  years,  the  powers  of  nature  have 
waged  their  ceaseless  strife,  without  rest,  without 
reconciliation:  the  river  never  tires  of  beating 
against  the  rocks;  the  rocks  never  tire  of  beating 
back  the  stream;  the  mountain-crags  never  grow 
old;  the  immense  morasses  defy  cultivation;  the 
frosty-clear  winter  sky  quivers  forever  in  the  north- 
ern light,  and  looks  down  with  serene  and  majestic 
calm  upon  the  scattered  huts  along  the  river-banks. 
Here  is  the  home  of  night  and  terror;  here  is 
the  shadow  in  the  golden  pictures  of  Finnish 
poetry.  Here  sorcery,  shunning  the  light,  weaves 
its  nets  around  human  faith;  here  were  the  graves 
of  heroes;  here  was  the  Mount  of  Plagues;  here 
the  mythic  giants  wasted  their  rude  strength  in 
mountain  wilds;  here  stood  Hiisi's  Castle,  with  its 
massy  steps.  Here  the  spirit  of  the  Past  brooded 
its  gloomiest  thoughts;  here  it  retreated,  step  by 
step,  before  the  light  of  a  newer  time;  and  here  it 
has  bled  to  death  in  its  impotent  rage:  heathenism, 
fallen  from  its  greatness,  and  banished  from  more 
cultivated  fields,  steals  around  in  the  sheep's  cloth- 


290  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

ing  of  Christianity,  haunting  nightly  churchyards 
with  its  ghastly  rites. 

Before  the  waters  of  the  great  Northern 
streams,  maddened  by  their  struggle  in  a  hundred 
cataracts,  seek  a  brief  repose  in  Ulea  lake,  they 
pour  out  their  concentrated  anger  in  two  immense 
falls,  Koivukoski  and  Amma,  close  by  the  little 
village  of  Kajana.  Like  the  breaking  crests  of 
mighty  advancing  ocean  waves,  the  watery  masses 
plunge  headlong  down  the  narrow  gorge;  so  vio- 
lent is  their  fall  that  human  daring,  accustomed  as 
it  is  to  wrestling^  with  nature  and  being  victorious 
at  last,  pauses  here  in  amazement  and  admits  its 
feebleness.  Even  in  our  day  the  numerous  boats 
which  have  steered  their  course  down  the  river  to 
Uleaboro-  have  here  been  forced  to  take  to  the 
land  and  be  drawn  by  horses  through  the  streets  of 
Kajana. 

Between  the  two  falls  of  Koivukoski  and 
Amma,  in  the  stream,  lies  a  flat  ledge  of  rock,  ac- 
cessible from  both  sides  by  bridges.  Here  rise  the 
gray  walls  of  an  ancient  fortress,  now  in  ruins,  and 
constantly  bathed  by  the  waves  of  the  stream. 
This  fortress  is  Kajana  Castle,  built  in  1607,  during 
the  time  of  Charles  IX,  as  a  bulwark  against  Rus- 
sian invasion.  Its  history  is  brief,  and  has  only  one 
bright  point — its  fall.  Mayhap  the  time  will  come 
in  our  story  when  we  shall  speak  of  it  again. 

We  are  now  in  the  year  1635,  and  the  castle 
stands  in  its  youthful  strength.  Its  form  resembles 
an  arrow  with  the  point  toward  the  current.  It  is 
considered  to  be  impregnable,  unless  from  famine, 
or  from  heavy  artillery  trained  upon  it  from  the 
surroundinor  heischts.  But  how  could  a  hostile 
army  reach  Kajana  castle?  All  around  in  the  im- 
mense wilderness  there  is  no  road  where  a  wheel 


FIRE   AND   WATER.  291 

can  advance.  In  summer,  the  traveller  follows  the 
narrow  bridle-trail  through  the  forest,  or  climbs 
the  rock-hewn  path;  in  winter,  he  hurries  with  his 
reindeer  and  sledge  over  the  ice  of  the  lakes. 

It  is  winter;  a  thick  crust  of  ice  at  the  river 
shores  and  upon  the  walls  of  the  castle  shows  that 
the  cold  has  been  severe,  though  it  has  not  been 
able  to  freeze  over  the  restless  stream  in  its  rapid 
course.  Some  soldiers,  clad  in  jackets  of  sheep- 
skin, with  the  woolly  side  turned  in,  are  busy- 
drawing  home  wood  from  the  forest  near  by. 
There  is  peace  in  the  land;  the  drawbridge  is 
down,  and  horses'  hoofs  thunder  over  the  bridge  of 
the  river.  A  violent  altercation  arises  in  the 
castle-yard.  An  old  woman,  tall  in  stature,  with 
sharp  and  disagreeable  features,  has  taken  posses- 
sion of  one  of  the  loads  of  wood,  and  pushed  away 
the  soldiers,  while  she  gathers  in  her  arms  as  many 
sticks  as  she  is  able  to  carry,  and  commands  a  young- 
er woman  to  do  the  same.  The  soldiers  pour  out  a 
volley  of  coarse  words,  to  which  the  sharp-eyed 
woman  is  not  slow  to  respond.  An  under  officer, 
drawn  there  by  the  noise,  inquires  the  cause,  ad- 
dresses thewoman  with  hard  words,  and  orders  her  to 
return  the  wood  she  has  taken.  The  woman  refuses 
to  obey;  the  under  officer  orders  the  wood  to  be  for- 
cibly taken  from  her;  the  woman  plants  herself  by  a 
wall,  raises  a  stick  of  wood  in  the  air,  and  threatens 
to  crush  the  skull  of  the  first  man  who  approaches 
her.  The  soldiers  swear  and  laugh;  the  under 
officer  hesitates;  the  woman's  enersfv  takes  them 
by  surprise. 

Now  an  elderly  man  appears  on  the  steps,  and 
all  respectfully  give  way  before  him.  It  is  the 
governor,  Wernstedt.  As  soon  as  the  woman 
catches  sight  of  him,  she  leaves  her   belligerent 


292  TIAfES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

position,  and  with  a  stream  of  words  relates  all  the 
injustice  she  has  suffered. 

"  Yes,  your  excellency,"  said  she,  "  that  is  the 
way  they  dare  to  treat  a  man  who  is  the  pride  and 
ornament  of  Sweden!  Not  only  do  they  shut  him 
up  in  this  miserable  place,  beyond  reach  of  all 
justice  and  honor,  but  they  let  him  freeze  to  death 
besides.  What  wood  have  they  given  us!  Great 
God!  nothing  but  soggy  and  rotten  chunks,  which 
fill  the  room  with  smoke,  and  don't  give  heat 
enough  to  thaw  the  ink  on  his  table^  But  I  tell 
you,  that  I,  Lucia  Grothusen,  do  not  mean  to  be 
imposed  upon  any  longer.  This  wood  here  is  good, 
and  I  take  it,  as  you  see,  right  under  the  nose  of 
these  vagabonds,  who  every  one  of  them  deserve 
to  hang  on  the  highest  pine  in  the  Paldamo  forest. 
Pack  yourselves  off,  you  lazy,  good-for-nothing 
fellows,  and  mind  how  you  behave  before  me  and 
the  master.  The  wood  is  mine;  that  is  all  there  is 
about  it." 

The  governor  smiles. 

"  Let  her  keep  the  wood,"  said  he  to  the 
soldiers,  "else  not  a  soul  in  the  castle  will  have  any 
peace.  And  you,  Lucia,  I  tell  you  that  you  must 
hold  your  wicked  tongue,  which  has  done  so  much 
harm;  otherwise  it  might  happen  that  I  should 
again  put  you  and  your  husband  in  that  dungeon 
you  know  of,  where  Erik  Hare  kept  you,  and  where 
the  stream  runs  rio-ht  under  the  floor.  Is  this  the 
thanks  I  get  for  the  mild  treatment  1  have  shown 
you,  that  you  are  constantly  stirring  up  quarrels 
here  in  the  castle?  Day  before  yesterday  you 
scolded  because  you  did  not  receive  soap  enough 
for  your  washing;  yesterday  you  took  a  leg  of 
mutton,  by  force,  from  my  kitchen;  and  to-day  you 


FIRE  AMD   WATER.  293 

make  a  fuss  about  the  wood.  Take  care,  Lucia; 
my  patience  may  come  to  an  end." 

The  woman  looks  the  governor  straight  in  the 
face. 

"  Your  patience!"  repeats  she.  "How  long  do 
you  think  mine  will  last?  It  is  now  almost  nine- 
teen years  tliat  I  have  stayed  here  in  this  wolf-den. 
For  nineteen  long  years  has  Sweden  suflPered  the 
stain  of  having  her  greatest  man  confined  here 
like  a  malefactor!  .  .  .  Mark  what  I  say:  Swed- 
en's greatest  man;  for  the  day  will  come  when  you, 
and  I,  and  all  these  greasy  souls,  all  these  wander- 
ing ale-jugs,  shall  be  food  for  worms,  and  remem- 
bered no  more  than  the  hog  you  slaughter  to-day; 
but  the  name  of  Johannes  Messenius  shall  shine 
with  glory  in  all  times.  Your  jDatience!  Have  I, 
then,  not  had  patience, — I,  who  all  these  eternal 
years  have  been  fighting  with  you  for  a  bit  of 
bread,  for  firewood,  for  a  pillow  for  this  great  man, 
whom  you  abuse?  I,  the  only  one  who  has  kept 
his  frail  body  alive,  and  strengthened  his  soul  for 
the  great  work  which  he  is  now  completing?  Do 
you  know  what  it  means  to  suffer  as  I  have  suffered; 
to  forsake  all,  as  I  have  done;  to  be  snatched 
away  from  one's  children;  to  go  with  despair  in 
the  heart  and  a  smile  on  the  lips,  seeming  to  have 
hope  when  none  remains?  .  .  .  Do  you  know, 
governor,  what  all  that  means?  And  you  come 
here  and  speak  of  your  patience!" 

The  soldiers'  loud  laughter  interrupts  the  old 
woman's  volubility.  She  now  perceives,  for  the 
first  time,  that  the  governor  has  taken  the  wisest 
course  under  the  circumstances,  and  gone  his  way. 
It  is  not  the  first  time  that  Lucia  Grothusen  has  put 
the  commander  of  a  fortress  to  flight.  She  was 
quite  able  to  drive  a  whole  garrison  to  the  woods. 


294  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


But  it  vexes  her  that  she  cannot  fully  relieve  her 
mind.  She  throws  a  stick  of  wood  at  the  nearest 
and  worst  of  her  deriders,  and  then  hurries,  with 
the  wood  in  her  arms,  to  reach  a  low  back  door. 
The  soldier,  struck  in  the  leg,  seizes  the  stick,  with 
an  oath,  and  in  his  turn  flings  it  after  the  old  wo- 
man. Lucia,  hit  in  the  heel,  utters  a  cry  of  pain 
and  anger;  then  she  disappears  through  the  door, 
followed  by  the  soldiers'  mocking  laughter. 

During  the  scene  of  self-sacrifice  on  one  side 
and  rudeness  on  both  sides,  a  group  of  strangers 
have  arrived  over  the  western  bridge  to  the  castle, 
and  ask  to  be  conducted  to  the  commander. 

The  soldiers  regard  them  with  curiosity.  They 
wear  the  humble  garb  of  peasants,  but  their  whole 
manner  betrays  a  foreign  country.  At  their  head 
is  an  old  man  with  dark,  squinting  eyes  and  sallow 
complexion;  his  face  is  scarcely  seen  under  a 
hairy  cap  of  dog-skin,  which  covers  with  its 
earflaps  the  greater  part  of  his  head.  After  him 
comes  a  young  women  in  a  striped  homespun  wool- 
en skirt,  and  a  close-fitting  jacket  of  new  and  fine 
white  calf-skin.  Her  face  also  is  almost  entirely 
hidden  under  a  hood  of  coarse  felt,  bordered  with 
squirrel-skin,  the  fine  fur  of  which  is  covered  with 
frost.  Yet  there  can  be  seen  a  pair  of  beautiful 
dark  e3^es  of  unusual  brilliancy,  which  look  forth 
froai  the  hood.  The  third  in  the  company  is  a 
little  old  woman,  so  wrapped  up  in  furs,  doubled  in 
countless  folds,  that  her  short  figure  has  broad- 
ened out  into  the  form  of  a  well-stuffed  walking 
bolster. 

All  these  persons  are  brought  before  the  gov- 
ernor. The  man  with  the  dog-skin  cap  shows  a 
paper,  according  to  which  he,  Albertus  Simonis, 
of  his  royal  majesty's   service,  is  appointed  army 


FIRE   AND   WATER.  295 

physician  for  the  troops  which  are  to  go  to  Ger- 
many the  next  sprinsi;,  and  is  now,  with  his  wife 
and  daughter,  on  a  journey  from  Dantzic  to  Stock- 
hohn,  by  way  of  the  north  road  through  Wiborg 
and  Kajana.  The  governor  examines  closely  both 
the  document  and  the  man,  and  seems  to  approve 
them.  Then  he  conducts  the  travellers  to  a  room 
in  the  east  wing  of  the  castle,  and  orders  that  they 
be  provided  with  the  refreshments  necessary  after 
a  long  journey  at  that  severe  season. 


CHx\PTER    XI. 

THE    PRISONEK   OF    STATE. 

\  \  7  E  now  enter  a  room  situated  in  the  south- 
VV  6rn  turret  of  the  castle.  It  is  not  very 
inviting.  It  is  large  and  dark,  and  although 
having  a  sunny  exposure,  the  narrow  window,  with 
its  thick  iron  gratings,  only  admits  a  few  sunbeams 
of  the  winter  days.  A  large  open  fire-place  with 
a  gray  stone  hearth  occupies  one  corner  of  the 
room;  a  rough  unpainted  bedstead,  a  couple  of 
benches,  a  few  chairs,  a  clothes-chest,  a  large  table 
under  the  window,  and  a  high  cupboard  next  to  it, 
comprise  the  furniture  of  the  room.  All  these 
things  have  an  appearance  of  newness,  which  in 
some  measure  reconciles  the  eye  to  their  coarse- 
ness. 

But  the  room  is  a  singular  combination  of 
kitchen  and  study.  At  the  upper  end,  nearest  the 
window,  learning  has  established  its  abode.  The 
table   is  covered  with  ink-spots,  and  loaded  with 


396  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

old  yellow  manuscripts  and  large  folios  in  parch- 
ment covers.  The  door  of  the  cupboard  is  open, 
disclosing-  that  it  is  used  as  a  library.  The  lower 
part  of  the  room,  near  the  fire-place,  has  a  differ-, 
ent  appearance.  Here  stands  the  washtub  beside 
a  barrel  of  flour;  a  kettle  is  waiting  for  some  dried 
fish  and  bits  of  salt  pork,  which  struggle  for  a 
place  with  a  bucket  of  water  and  a  shelf  filled  with 
stone  dishes. 

Such  is  the  abode  which  Governor  Wernstedt 
granted  to  the  state-prisoner,  Johannes  Messenius, 
his  wife  and  servant,  in  exchange  for  the  horrible 
place  where  Messenius'  tormentor,  the  old  Erik 
Hare,  for  so  many  years  confined  the  unfortunate 
man.  This  room  is  at  least  high  and  dry  above  the 
ground.  Its  furniture  is  likewise  a  friendly  gift 
from  the  go\'ernor.  Messenius  occupies  the  upper 
part  of  the  room  and  the  women  of  the  household 
the  lower. 

By  the  large  ink-spotted  table  sits  a  bent  and 
gray-haired  man,  with  his  body  wrapped  in  furs, 
his  feet  in  high  reindeer  boots,  and  his  head  covered 
with  a  thick  woolen  cap.  One  who  had  seen  this 
man  in  the  days  of  his  prosperity,  when  he  im- 
periously addressed  Upsala  Consistory,  or,  proud 
as  a  king  on  his  throne,  ruled  over  all  the  histori- 
cal treasures  of  the  Swedish  state  archives,  could- 
scarcely  have  recognized  in  this  withered  form, 
bent  by  age  and  misfortune,  the  man  with  the  arro- 
gant mind,  the  opponent  of  Rudbeck  and  Tegel, 
the  learned,  gifted,  haughty  .Jesuit  apostle  and 
conspirator,  Johannes  Messenius.  But  if  one 
looked  deeper  into  those  sharp,  restless  eyes,  which 
seemed  constantly  trying  to  penetrate  the  future 
as  they  had  done  the  past,  and  read  the  words 
which  his  trembling  hand  had  just  penned — words 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  297 

full  of  egotism,  even  to  presumption, — then  one 
could  divine  that  within  this  wasted  tenement 
toiled  a  soul  unbroken  by  time  and  events,  proud 
as  it  had  always  been,  ambitious  as  it  could  never 
cease  to  be. 

The  old  man's  gaze  was  fixed  upon  the  paper 
long  after  he  had  laid  down  his  pen. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  thoughtfully  and  reflectively, 
"so  shall  it  be.  During  my  lifetime  they  have 
trampled  me  like  a  worm  in  the  dust;  when  I  am 
once  dead,  they  will  understand  upon  whom  they 
have  trampled.  Gloria^  gloria  in  excelsis!  The 
day  will  come,  even  if  it  be  a  hundred  years  hence, 
when  the  miserable  prisoner  who  now,  forgotten 
by  the  whole  world,  pines  away  in  the  wilderness, 
shall  with  admiration  and  respect  be  called  the 
father  of  Swedish  history.  Then,"  continued  he, 
with  a  bitter  smile,  "then  they  can  do  nothing 
more  for  me.  Then  I  shall  be  dead.  .  .  .  How 
strange!  The  dead  man,  whose  bones  have  long 
mouldered  in  the  grave,  lives  in  his  works;  his 
spirit  goes  revivifying  and  ennobling  through  the 
centuries.  All  that  he  has  suifered  while  he  lived, 
all  the  ignominy,  all  the  persecutions,  all  the  prison 
bars,  shall  be  forgotten,  shall  exist  no  more;  only 
his  name  shall  still  shine  like  a  star  through  the 
night  of  time,  and  posterity,  with  its  short  memory 
and  its  long  list  of  human  ingratitudes,  shall  say, 
in  thoughtless  admiration,  'He  was  a  great 
man!'" 

During  these  words,  the  old  woman  whose  ac- 
quaintance we  made  in  the  castle  yard  entered  the 
room.  She  opened  the  door  carefully,  and  walked 
on  tiptoe,  as  if  afraid  of  waking  a  sleeping  babe. 
Then  she  put  down,  slowly  and.  quietly,  tha  wood 
she  carried  in  her  arms.     A  little   noise   was  un- 


298  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

avoidable;  the  old  man  at  the  table,  startled  from 
his  thoughts,  began  to  upbraid  the  intruder: 

"Woman!"  said  he,  "how  dare  you  disturb 
me!  Have  I  not  told  you,  iterum  iterumque^  that 
you  shall  take  away  your  penates  procul  a  parnas- 
so  ?     Do  you  understand  it  .   .  .  lupa  f" 

"  Dear  Messenius,  I  am  only  bringing  you  a 
little  wood.  You  have  been  so  cold  all  these  days. 
Don't  be  angry,  now.  I  will  make  the  room  nice 
and  warm  for  you;  it  is  splendid  wood  .  .   ." 

"  Quid  inihi  tecum.  Go  away!  You  vex  me. 
You  weary  me.  You  are,  as  the  late  king  Gastaf 
always  said,  Messenii  mala  herba;  my  wormwood, 
my  nettle." 

Lucia  Grothusen  was  a  very  quick-tempered 
woman,  angry  and  quarrelsome  with  the  whole 
world;  but  now  she  kept  quite  still.  How  strange- 
ly had  her  domestic  position  changed!  She  had 
always  idolized  her  husband,  but  so  long  as  he  was 
in  the  full  strength  of  his  manhood  and  his  pros- 
perity, her  sturdy  strength  had  bent  his  unquiet 
and  vacillating  spirit  like  a  reed  under  her  will. 
All  that  time  the  learned  and  feared  Messenius 
had  been  completely  under  her  thumb.  Now,  the 
roles  were  changed.  In  the  same  measure  as  his 
physical  strength  declined,  indicating  more  and 
more  that  he  approached  the  end  of  his  life,  his 
wife's  idolatrous  love  overcame  her  domineering 
disposition,  and  brought  about  the  incredible  re- 
sult of  curbing  this  disposition  to  humble  submis- 
sion. She  nursed  him  as  a  mother  nurses  her  sick 
child,  for  fear  of  losing  him.  She  bore  every- 
thing patiently,  endeavoring  by  kindness  to  softe^ 
his  querulous  disposition,  and  had  never  an  angry 
word  to  reply  to  his  ill-natured  remarks.  Even  on 
the  present  occasion,  only  a  slight  trembling  of  the 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  299 

lips  gave  evidence  of  the  effort  it  cost  her  to  check 
her  anger. 

"Never  mind,"  said  she,  kindly,  as  she  went  a 
few  steps  nearer,  "don't  feel  bad  about  it,  my 
dear;  you  know  it  injures  your  health.  I  will  not 
do  so  again;  next  time  twill  lay  a  mat  under  the 
wood,  so  that  it  will  not  disturb  you.  Now  I  will 
cook  you  a  splendid  leg  of  mutton  for  supper  .  .  . 
Believe  me,  I  had  trouble  enou2:h  to  a^et  it.  I  al- 
most  had  to  take  it  by  force  from  the  governor's 
kitchen." 

"What,  woman!  have  you  dared  to  beg  bcnefi- 
cia  of  the  dainty  food  of  tyrants!  By  Zeus!  do 
you  consider  me  a  dog,  that  I  should  eat  the 
crumbs  from  their  tables?  And  you  limp.  Why 
do  you  do  that?  answer  me;  why  do  you  limp?  I 
suppose  you  have  been  running  around  the  castle 
like  a  gossipping  old  woman,  and  tripped  on  the 
stairs." 

"Do  I  limp?"  repeated  Lucia,  with  a  forced 
smile.     "  I  really  believe     ...     I  have  hurt  my 
foot.     .     .     .    Ungrateful!  "  added  she,  silently,  to 
herself;  "it  is  for  your  sake  that  I  suffer." 

"  Go  your  way,  and  let  me  finish  my  epitaph." 

But  Lucia  did  not  go;  she  stepped  nearer  to 
him.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  folded 
both  arms  around  the  old  man's  neck, 

"Your  epitaph!"  repeated  she,  in  a  voice  so 
mild  that  one  would  never  have  expected  it  from 
these  withered  lips,  which  seemed  made  only  for 
hard  words  and  invectives. 

"Oh  my  God!  "  continued  she,  in  a  low  tone, 
"  shall,  then,  all  that  is  great  and  glorious  on  earth 
finally  become  dust?  But  that  day  is  still  far  dis- 
tant, my  friend;  yes,  it  must  be  so.  Let  me  see 
the  epitaph  of  the  great  Johannes  Messenius!" 


300  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  old  man,  reconciled  by 
her  flattery,  which  was,  however,  uttered  with  the 
most  perfect  sincerity;  "you,  Lucia,  are  decidedly 
the  true  persona  executrix  who  ought  to  read  my 
epitaphium^  as  you  are  also  the  one  who  will  have 
it  engraved  on  my  tombstone.  Look,  my  dear; 
what  do  you  think  of  this? 

" '  Here  lie  the  bones  of  Doctoris  Johannes  Mes- 
seniiis.      The  soul  is  in  God's  kingdom,  hut   his 
fame  is  all  over  the  world.'' " 

"  Never,"  said  Lucia,  weeping,  "  never  were 
truer  words  carved  over  a  great  man's  tomb.  But 
let  us  say  no  more  about  it.  Let  us  speak  of  your 
great  work,  your  Scotidia.  Do  you  know,  I  have 
a  feeling  that  its  glory  will  in  a  short  time  prepare 
freedom  for  you." 

"  Freedom!  "  repeated  Johannes  Messenius,  in 
a  melancholy  tone.  "  Yes,  you  are  right;  the 
freedom  of  the  grave,  to  moulder  wherever  one 
chooses." 

"No,"  replied  Lucia,  with  eagerness  and  enthu- 
siasm; "your  eyes  shall  yet  see  the  honor  that  is 
due  you.  Your  great  Scondia  illustrata  will  be 
read;  it  will  be  printed  ...  with  your  name 
in  gilded  letters  on  the  title-page;  .  .  .  the 
whole  world,  full  of  admiration,  will  say,  'Never 
has  its  equal  existed  in  the  North! '  " 

"And  never  will  exist  again!"  added  Messe- 
nius,  with  confidence.  "Oh!  who  will  restore  me 
my  freedom? — freedom  that  I  may  behold  my 
work,  and  triumph  over  my  enemies.  JExaudime, 
Domine,  porrigo  7nanus  m,eas  coram  facie  tua! 
Libera  me  a  miserisj  etenim  dixisti:  prosternam 
inimicos  tuos  calcondos  pedibus  tins.*     Who  will 

*  Hear  me,  Lord,  I  stretch  out  my  hands  before  Thy  face.  Save  me 
from  misery,  for  Thou  hast  said:  I  will  prostrate  thine  enemies,  to  be 
trampled  under  thy  feet. 


FIRE  jy^D   WATER.  301 

give  nie  freedom — freedom  and  ten  years  of  life  to 
witness  the  fruit  of  mv  labor?" 

"I!"  answered  a  hollow  voice  from  the  lower 
end  of  the  room. 

At  the  sound  of  this  voice,  Messenius  and  his 
wife  turned  around  with  superstitious  terror.'  The 
loneliness  of  the  prison,  and  the  impression  of  the 
wild  nature  surroundin^^  them,  which  in  all  times 
will  be  the  fruitful  soil  of  superstition,  had  in- 
creased the  belief  of  both  in  supernatural  things 
to  perfect  conviction.  More  than  once  had  Messe- 
nius' brooding  spirit  been  at  the  point  of  plunging 
into  the  enticing  labyrinth  of  Kabala  and  the  black 
art,  but  his  zealous  work  and  his  wife's  religious 
exhortations  held  him  back.  Now  came  an  unex- 
jjected  answer  to  his  question  .  .  from  heaven 
or  the  infernal  abyss,  it  mattered  not  which;  it  was 
an  answer — a  straw  for  his  drowning  hope. 

The  short  winter  day  drew  to  a  close,  and  twi- 
light already  spread  its  shadows  over  that  part  of 
the  prison  room  which  lay  nearest  the  door.  From 
this  obscurity  advanced  a  man,  in  whose  sallow  fea- 
tures could  be  recognized  the  same  person  who  a 
few  hours  befoi'e  had  gained  an  entrance  in  the 
castle,  under  the  name  of  Albertus  Simonis.  He 
had  probably,  in  his  capacity  of  physician,  obtained 
permission  to  see  the  prisoner;  for  the  whole 
medical  faculty  of  the  castle  consisted  only  of  a 
barber,  who  practiced  chirurgery,  and  an  old  sol- 
dier's widow,  whose  skill  in  curing  internal  diseases 
was  highly  commended,  especially  when  it  was  as- 
sisted by  incantations,  which,  forbidden  by  the 
church,  were  still  used  in  the  bath-room  as  a  pow- 
erful form  of  sorcery. 

'"'■Pax  voMsciini/^''  said  the  stranger,  with  great 
solemnity,  and  approaching  the  window. 


-302  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

"  Et  tecum  sit  Dominusl "  answered  Messenius, 
quite  as  solemnly,  and  with  mingled  curiosity  and 
inquietude. 

"  Procul  sit  a  concilio   lingua  muUeris!  "  con- 
tinued the  stranger,  in  the  same  tone. 

Lucia,  in  whose  youth  the  daughters  of  learned 
men  read  Latin  better  than  those  of  the  nineteenth 
century  read  French,  did  not  wait  for  a  further 
admonition,  but  left  the  room,  with  a  scrutinizing 
glance  at  the  mysterious  stranger. 

Messenius  made  a  sign  to  his  guest  to  take  a 
seat  at  his  side.  The  whole  of  their  conversation 
was  carried  on  in  Latin. 

"Receive  my  greeting,  great  man,  whom  mis- 
fortune has  been  able  only  to  elevate!  "  began  the 
stranger,  craftily  touching  Messenius'  weakest 
side, 

"  Welcome,  you  who  do  not  disdain  to  visit  the 
forsaken! "  replied  Messenius,  with  unusual  cour- 
tesy. 

".Johannes  Messenius,  do  you  recognize  me?" 
continued  the  stranger,  lettinor  the  light  fall  on  his 
pale  features. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  seen  your  face 
before,"  answered  the  prisoner,  hesitatingly;  "  but 
it  must  have  been  lono;,  long^  asfo." 

"  Do  you  remember  a  boy  in  Braunsberg,  some 
years  younger  than  you,  who  was  educated  with 
you  in  the  school  of  the  holy  fathers,  and  after- 
wards in  your  company  visited  Rome  and  Ingold- 
stadt?" 

"  Yes,  I  remember  ...  a  boy  who  gave 
great  promise  of  one  day  becoming  a  pillar  of  the 
..church     .     .     .     Hieronymus  Mathias." 

"  This  Hieronymus  Mathias  am  I." 

Messenius  felt  a  shiver  run  through  his  frame. 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  303 

How  had  not  the  tooth  of  time,  the  experiences  of 
years,  and  the  soul-destroying  doctrines  of  Jesuit- 
ism, changed  the  features  of  the  once  blooming 
boy!  Father  Hieronymus,  for  it  was  he,  observed 
this  impression,  and  hastened  to  add: 

"  Yes,  my  revered  friend,  five  and  thirty 
years'  struggle  for  the  welfare  of  the  only  saving 
church  has  withered  the  roses  forever  in  these 
cheeks.  I  have  toiled,  I  have  sutFered,  in  these 
evil  times.  Like  vou,  great  man,  but  with  a 
smaller  measure  of  genius,  have  I  wrought  in  the 
vineyard,  without  any  recompense  for  my  trouble 
save  the  holy  martyr's  crown  in  Paradise.  You 
have  in  my  youth  shown  me  much  friendship;  now  I 
will  repay  it,  so  far  as  is  in  ra}-  power.  I  will 
restore  you  to  freedom  and  to  life." 

"Ah,  reverend  father,"  answered  the  old  man, 
with  a  deep  sigh,  "  I  am  not  worthy  that  you,  the 
faithful  son  of  the  holy  church,  should  extend  to 
me,  poor  apostate,  your  hand.  You  do  not  know, 
then,  that  I  have  renounced  our  faith;  that  I,  with 
my  own  hand  and  mouth,  have  embraced  the 
accursed  Lutheran  religion,  which  in  my  heart  I 
abhor;  nay,  that  I  have  even  sometimes  persecuted 
your  holy  order  with  all  kinds  of  godless  libels?" 

"Dol  not  know  all  this,  my  honored  friend? 
Have  not  the  great  Messenius'  work  and  deeds 
flown  on  the  wings  of  fame  even  to  Germany? 
But  what  you  have  done,  you  have  done  only  as 
on  outer  show,  in  order  to  work  in  secret  for  the 
welfare  of  our  holy  Roman  church.  Do  not  the 
holy  Scriptures  teach  us  to  meet  craft  with  craft  in 
these  godless  times? — perinde  ac  serpenies  estate: 
'ye  shall  be  wily  as  serpents.'  The  Holy  Virgin 
will  give  you  absolution  for  all  you  have  done  for 
her  sake.     Yes,  revered  man,  even  have  you  seven 


304  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

times  abjured  your  faith,  and  seventy-seven  times 
sinned  against  all  the  saints  and  the  dogmas  of  the 
church,  it  shall  be  accounted  to  you  for  glory  and 
not  for  condemnation,  provided  you  have  done  it 
with  a  mental  reservation  and  to  serve  the  good 
cause.  Even  if  your  tongue  has  lied  and  your 
hand  slain,  it  shall  be  deemed  a  pious  and  holy 
work,  when  it  was  for  the  purpose  of  bringing 
back  stray  sheep.  Courage,  great  man ;  I  give  you 
absolution  in  the  name  of  the  church." 

"  Yes,  pious  father,  those  teachings  which  the 
worthy  Jesuits  in  Braunsberg  so  eloquently  im- 
planted in  my  young  soul,  I  have  faithfully  fol- 
lowed. But  now,  in  my  old  age,  it  sometimes 
seems  to  me  as  if  my  conscience  had  many  objec- 
tions to     .     .     .     ." 

"Temptations  of  the  devil! — nothing  else. 
Drive  them  away!  " 

"  That  may  all  be,  pious  father!  Yet,  to  quiet 
my  conscience,  I  have  written  a  formal  confession, 
in  which  I  openly  explain  my  adoption  of  the 
Lutheran  faith  to  be  a  hypocritical  act,  and  as 
openly  proclaim  my  adherence  to  the  Catholic 
church." 

"  Hide  this  confession — show  it  not  to  any  mor- 
tal eye!"  interrupted  the  Jesuit,  quickly.  "Its 
time  will  yet  come." 

"I  do  not  understand  your  reasons,  pious 
father! " 

"  Listen  attentively  to  what  I  have  to  say.  Do 
you  think,  old  man,  that  I,  without  important  rea- 
sons, have  ventured  up  here  in  the  wilderness 
hundreds  of  miles,  daily  exposed  to  hunger,  cold, 
wild  beasts,  and  the  still  wilder  people,  who 
would  burn  me  alive  if  they  knew  who  I  was  and 
what   were   my   designs?      Do   you    think    that    I 


FT  RE  AND   WATER.  305 

would  Iiave  forsaken  tlie  field  in  my  own  country, 
too  wide  for  my  feeble  enerjries,  had  I  not  hoped 
to  accomplish  more  here?  Then  will  I  briefly  ex- 
plain the  matter.  .  .  .  Can  anybody  hear  us? 
Are  there  any  secret  passages  in  these  walls?" 
"Be  composed;  no  mortal  ear  can  hear  us." 
"  Know  then,"  continued  the  Jesuit,  in  a  low 
voice,  "that  again  we  have  taken  up  the  never- 
abandoned  plan  of  restoring  heretic  Sweden  to  the 
bosom  of  the  Roman  church.  There  are  only  two 
powers  which  can  still  resist  us;  and,  the  saints  be 
praised,  these  powers  become  day  by  day  more 
harmless.  The  house  of  Stuart,  in  England,  is 
enmeshed  in  our  nets,  and  secretly  does  everything 
for  our  cause.  Sweden  still  lies  stunned  by  the  ter- 
rible blow  at  NOrdlingen,  and  cannot,  without  some 
new  miracle,  retain  its  arrogant  position  in  Germany. 
The  time  has  come;  our  plans  are  matured;  iwe 
must  avail  ourselves  of  our  enemies'  powerlessness. 
In  a  few  years,  England  will  fall  into  our  hands 
like  a  ripe  apple.  Sweden,  still  proud  of  former 
victories,  will  be  forced  to  do  the  same.  The  means 
to  this  end  will  be  a  change  of  dynasty."  , 

"  Christina,  King  Gustaf's  daughter  .  .  .  " 
"Is  a  nine-year-old  child,  and  besides,  a  girl! 
We  are  not  without  allies  in  Sweden,  who  still 
remember  the  exiled  royal  family.  The  weak 
Sigismund  is  dead;  Vladislaus,  his  son,  stretches 
out  his  hands,  with  all  the  impatience  of  youth,  for 
the  crown  of  his  fathers.  It  shall  be  his." 
U  13* 


306  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    TEMPTER. 

"TT"  LADISLAUS  on  the  throne  of  Sweden?    I 

V  floubt  if  we  shall  live  to  see  that  day,"  in- 
terrupted Messenius  dubiously. 

"  Hear  me  to  the  end,"  continued  the  Jesuit, 
inspirited  by  the  far-reaching  plan  his  artful  head 
had  woven.  "  You  yourself,  great  Messenius,  are 
the  one  who  shall  perform  this  miracle." 

"I  ...  a  miserable  prisoner!     Impossible." 

"To  the  saints  and  genius,  nothing  is  impos- 
sible. The  Swede  is  loyal.  He  follows  his  king, 
for  good  or  evil.  He  has  especially  a  great  rever- 
ence for  old  King  Gustaf  Vasa.  If  it  could  now 
be  proved  that  the  said  king,  in  death-bed  repent- 
ance, declared  the  Lutheran  doctrine  to  be  false, 
j*that  he  abjured  and  condemned  the  reformation, 
that  he  charged  his  youngest  son,  the  papistical 
Johan,  to  atone  for  his  great  errors  .  .  ." 

"  What  do  you  dare  to  say?"  burst  out  Mes- 
senius, with  undisguised  surprise.  "A  lie  so  evi- 
,  dent,  which  is  in  direct  opposition  to  Gustaf  Vasa's 
last  words  and  death,  all  of  which  has  been  so  faith- 
fully recorded  .  .  ." 

"Calm  yourself,  revered  friend,"  interrupted 
the  Jesuit,  coolly.  "  If  it  further  could  be  proved 
that  the  second  founder  and  bulwark  of  Lutheran- 
ism,  Charles  IX,  likewise  on  his  death-bed  declared 
the  reformation  a  misfortune  and  a  blasphemy  .  .  ." 

Messenius  regarded  the  Jesuit  with  dismay. 


FIRE   AND    WATER.  307 

"And  if  it  finally  can  be  proved  that  King 
Gustaf  Adolf  himself,  before  breathing  his  last  ou 
the  battle-field  of  Liitzen,  was  seized  by  a  sudden 
inspiration,  and  died  a  heretic's  death,  in  unavail- 
ing repentance  and  anguish  of  soul  ..." 

Messenius'  pale  cheeks  flushed. 

"  Then,"  continued  the  Jesuit,  with  the  same 
imperturbable  boldness,  "  then  there  remains  of 
the  Wasa dynasty  only  the  foolish  Erik  XIV,  the 
acknowledged  papist  Johan  III,  and  the  ])rofessed 
Catholic  Sigismund,  with  none  of  whom  do  we 
need  to  trouble  ourselves.  Once  convinced  that 
their  greatest  kings,  all  of  them  in  fact,  either 
have  been  papistical  or  have  become  so  in  their 
last  moments,  the  veil  will  finally  fall  from  the 
eyes  of  the  Swedish  people;  they  will  penitently 
confess  their  guilt,  and  at  last  fall  back  into  the 
bosom  of  the  only  saving  Roman  church." 

"And  how  will  you,  reverend  father,  in  the  face 
of  all  the  facts,  convince  the  Swedes  of  the  apostacy 
of  their  kinoes?" 

"I  have  already  said,"  replied  the  Jesuit,  flat- 
teringly, "  that  such  a  great  and  meritorious  mis- 
sion can  be  accomplished  only  by  the  gifted  Johan- 
nes Messenius.  All  know  that  you  are  the  most 
learned  man  and  the  greatest  historian  of  Sweden. 
They  know  that  you  have  possessed,  and  still  hold 
in  your  hands,  more  historical  documents  and 
secrets  than  any  one  else  in  the  whole  kingdom. 
Use  these  advantages  skillfully  and  judiciously; 
fabricate  documents  that  never  existed;  imagine 
■events  which  never  took  place  .  .  .'' 

"  What  do  you  dare  to  say?"  exclaimed  Mes- 
senius, with  flaming  cheeks. 

The  Jesuit  misunderstood  his  emotion. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  father,  "  the  undertaking 


308  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

is  a  bold  one,  but  far  from   impossible.     A   hasty- 
flight  to  Poland  will,  besides,  place  you  in  security." 

"And  it  is  to  me — to  me — you  propose  this?" 

"Yes,"  added  Hieronymus,  in  the  same  tone. 
"I  realize  that  Gustaf  Adolf  would  cause  you  the 
greatest  trouble,  and  therefore  I  take  that  part  of 
the  task.  You  have  thus  only  Gustaf  I  and  Charles 
IX  as  your  share,  to  portray  them  in  such  a  light 
as  will  best  serve  our  cause  and  that  of  the  holy 
church." 

'''•AM  a  me,  male  spiritus  !  "  cried  Messenius,  in 
an  outburst  of  rage,  which  the  Jesuit,  in  spite  of 
his  sagacity,  was  far  from  expecting.  "You  vile 
calumniator!  you  liar!  you  wretch,  who  profane 
with  your  touch  the  holiest  things! — do  you  believe 
that  I,  Johannes  Messenius,  have  worked  so  many 
long  years  to  become  Sweden's  greatest  historian, 
in  order  suddenly,  in  so  infamous,  so  unheard-of 
a  way,  to  violate  the  historical  truth  which  I  have 
re-established  with  such  protracted  toil?  Pack 
yourself  oif  this  instant!  quick  .  .  .  away,  in  Ge- 
hennatnl''''  .  .  .  and  with  these  words  the  old  man, 
beside  himself  with  anger,  flung  at  the  Jesuit's 
head  everything  that  lie  could  get  hold  of — books, 
papers,  inkstand,  sandbox — with  such  violence 
that  the  bold  monk  started.  The  father's  sallow 
face  became  for  a  moment  still  paler  .  .  .  then  he 
took  a  few  steps  backwards,  rose  to  his  full  height, 
and  opened  the  plaited  Spanish  doublet  of  velvet, 
which  covered  his  breast.  A  crucifix,  set  with 
flashing  diamonds,  and  surrounded  by  a  crown  of 
thorns  composed  of  rubies,  glittered  unexpectedly 
in  the  gathering  twilight. 

This  ornament  seemed  to  have  a  magic  effect 
upon  Messenius.  His  excited  voice  suddenly  be- 
came silent;  his  anger  changed  almost  instantly  to 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  309 

unmistakable  fear  .  .  .  his  knees  trembled;  he 
staggered,  and  was  on  the  point  of  falling,  but 
supported  himself  with  difficulty  against  the  high- 
backed  chair  by  the  writing-table. 

The  Jesuit,  advancing  slowly,  pierced  the  pris- 
oner with  those  indescribable  eyes  which  have  been 
compared  to  the  rattlesnake's.  "  Have  you  for- 
gotten, old  man,"  said  he,  with  a  measured  and 
commanding  tone,  letting  each  crushing  word  be 
followed  by  a  pause  calculated  to  increase  its  sharp 
effect,  "have  you  forgotten  the  penalty  which  the 
church  and  the  laws  of  our  holy  order  ordain  for 
sins  like  yours?  For  apostacy,  death  .  .  .  and  you 
have  seven  times  apostatized!  For  blasphemy, 
death  .  .  .  and  you  have  seven  times  blasphemed! 
For  disobedience,  death.  .  .  •  and  you  have  seven 
times  disobeyed!  For  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost, 
damnation  .  .  .  and  who  has  sinned  like  you!  For 
heresy,  the  stake  .  .  .  and  who  has  merited  it  like 
you!  For  offense  and  disrespect  against  the  holy 
ones  of  the  Lord,  eternal  fire  .  .  .  and  who  has 
offended  like  you?" 

"Grace,  holy  father,  grace!"  exclaimed  Mes- 
senius,  while  he  writhed  like  a  worm  under  the 
Jesuit's  terrible  threats. 

But  Father  Hieronymus  continued: 

"Nicolaus  Pragensis,  the  celebrated  man,  went 
over  to  Calvin's  false  doctrines,  and  dared  defy 
the  head  of  our  order.  He  fled  to  the  remotest 
corner  of  Bohemia;  but  revenge  found  him.  The 
dogs  tore  his  body,  and  the  spirits  of  hell  tear  his 
soul    .    .    ." 

"Grace!  mercy!"  sighed  the  prisoner,  annihilated. 

"Well,"  continued  the  Jesuit,  haughtily,  "I 
have  given  you  the  choice  between  glory  and  per- 
dition; I  will  present  it  to  you  once  more,  although 


310  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

you  do  not  deserve  it.  Do  you  believe,  miserable 
apostate,  that  I,  the  head  of  the  German  and  North- 
ern Jesuits,  who  do  not  acknowledge  any  one 
above  me  except  the  holy  father  at  Rome — do  you 
believe  that  I,  who  have  defied  a  thousand  dan- 
gers to  seek  you  here  in  your  wretched  corner,  will 
allow  you  with  your  disobedience  and  irresolution 
to  deter  me,  the  invisible  ruler  of  the  whole  North? 
I  ask  you  once  more,  in  the  name  of  our  holy  or- 
der, if  you,  Johannes  Messenius,  will  be  faithful 
to  the  oath  you  swore  in  your  youth,  and  passively 
obey  the  behests  and  commands  which  I,  your 
superior  and  your  judge,  enjoin  upon  you?" 

"Yes,  holy  father,"  answered  the  prisoner, 
trembling;  "  i  will." 

"  Listen,  then,  to  the  penalty  I  impose.  You 
say  that  you  have  through  your  whole  life  striven 
for  a  single  aim:  to  gain  the  name  of  the  greatest 
historian  in  the  North;  and  you  think  that  vou 
have  at  last  attanied  your  aim?" 

"Yes,  holy  father,  this  has  been  my  aim,  and  I 
have  attained  it." 

"  Your  aim  is  false!  "  exclaimed  the  Jesuit,  in 
crushing  tones.  "Your  aim  is  of  sin  and  the 
devil;  for  you  have  worked  for  your  own  glory,  and 
not  for  that  of  the  holy  church,  as  you  have  sworn. 
Therefore  I  inflict  upon  you  the  punishment  that 
you  destroy,  with  your  own  hands,  the  idol  of  your 
life — your  great  fame  with  posterity — by  perverting 
history,  and  writing  it,  not  as  it  is,  but  as  it  ought 
to  be.  I  bid  you  cast  away  fame  and  posterity,  in 
order  to  serve  the  cause  of  the  present,  which  is  the 
victory  of  the  Roman  church  in  the  North.  I  bid 
you  write  the  history  of  the  kings  Gustaf  I  and 
Charles  IX  in  such  a  way  that  all  tliey  have  done 
for  the  Reformation  may  redound  as  a  ruin  and  a 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  311 

curse  to  thein  and  their  kingdom.  And  I  bid  you 
base  this  new  history  on  documents  so  plausible  that 
in  the  eyes  of  the  people  they  may  defy  any 
proofs  to  the  contrary  .  .  .  documents  which 
do  not  exist,  I  know  it  full  well,  but  which  you 
shall  manufacture  .  .  .  documents  whose 
spuriousness  may  possibly  be  discovered  in  a  com- 
ing* generation,  but  which  for  the  present  shall 
serve  the  desired  purpose." 

"  And  thus,"  said  Messenius,  in  a  voice  which 
trembled  with  the  most  varied  emotions — fear, 
anger,  humiliation,  "thus  T  shall  stand  before  pos- 
terity as  a  base  falsifier,  an  infamous  defamer  of 
history's  holiest  truth     .     .     " 

"Yes;  and  what  then?"  resumed  the  Jesuit, 
with  a  mocking  smile;  "what  matters  it  if  you, 
miserable  tool,  sacrifice  your  name,  provided  the 
church  gains  its  great  victory?  Of  what  benefit 
to  you  is  the  praise  of  men,  if  your  soul  burns  in 
the  fire  of  hell?  and  what  harm  can  human  con- 
tempt do  you,  if  through  this  sacrifice  you  have 
gained  the  martyr's  crown  in  heaven?" 

"  But  the  cause  of  truth — the  inexorable  judg- 
ment of  history?" 

"Bah!  what  is  historical  truth?  Is  it  anything 
more  than  the  obedient  slave  who  follows  at  the 
heels  of  human  errors  .  .  .  the  parrot  which 
thoughtlessly  repeats  human  follies?  Or  is  it  not 
rather  reality  such  as  it  oiKjlit  to  be,  purified  from 
error,  freed  from  crime  and  folly  .  .  .  God's 
kingdom  on  earth,  as  wise  as  it  is  almighty,  as 
good  as  it  is  lioly  and  wise?" 

"  But  is  it  then  we  who  dictate  to  God  what  is 
good  and  wise?  Has  he  not  himself  told  us  this, 
through  reality  as  it  isf'' 

"Ha!    vacillating  apostate!   you    still    dare   to 


312  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

argue  with  your  superior  about  right  and  wrong! 
Choose  and  obey!  Choose  on  one  side  temporal 
and  eternal  death;  on  the  other  the  joys  of  Para- 
dise and  the  glory  of  the  saints.  One  word  more; 
and  upon  this  depends  your  weal  or  woe:  Will  you 
obey  my  commands?" 

"  Yes,  1  will  obey,"  answered  the  prisoner, 
trembling  and  crushed.  And  the  Jesuit  strode 
away,  silent  and  cold,  with  a  ruler's  nod  that  the 
slave  had  his  good  grace. 


CHAPTER    XTIl. 


ABI,    MALE    SPIRITUS. 


A  WEEK  or  so  had  passed  since  we  listened  to 
the  secret  conference.  During  this  time, 
the  Jesuit  had  not  lost  sight  of  the  prisoner.  He 
was  daily  seen  to  smuggle  himself,  under  the  pre- 
text of  medical  attendance,  into  Messenius'  room, 
and  spend  several  hours  with  him.  He  was  too 
prudent  to  rely  upon  the  vacillating  promise  of  the 
prisoner.  What  they  did  together,  no  one  in  the 
castle  knew,  and  the  governor  had  no  susjiicions. 
The  situation  of  Kajana  Castle,  remote  from  the 
world,  had  lulled  Wernstedt  into  a  feeling  of 
security;  he  rather  found  pleasure  in  the  society  of 
the  foreign  doctor,  who  gave  evidence  of  great 
learning  joined  to  great  worldly  experience. 

There  was  one,  however,  who,  with  a  vigilant 
eye,  followed  the  stranger's  steps;  and  this  was 
Lucia  Grothusen,  Messenius'  wife.  A  Catholic  by 
education  and  conviction,  she  had  always  strength- 


FIRE  AND    WATER.  313 

ened  her  husband  iu  his  papistical  trickeries;  the 
Jesuit  knew  this  quite  well,  and  therefore  felt  sure 
of  her  co-operation,  although  he  cautiously  avoided 
trusting  his  plans  to  the  tireless  female  tongue. 
But  the  subtlest  plans  are  often  stranded  upon 
these  hidden  impulses  of  the  human  heart, 
especially  woman's  heart,  which  work  in  quite 
a  different  direction  from  the  one  which  cold 
reason  marks  out.  The  Jesuit,  with  all  his 
shrewdness,  had  been  mistaken  in  Lucia.  He 
had  not  calculated  that  when  fanaticism  in  her 
head  cried,  "Push  on!"  love  cried  still  louder  in 
her  heart,  "  Hold  back!"  And  with  women,  love 
always  gains  the  mastery. 

Lucia  was  an  uncommonly  sharp- sighted 
woman;  she  had  seen  through  the  Jesuit  before  he 
could  suspect  it.  She  saw  the  destructive  inward 
strife  which  ragged  iu  Messenius'  breast — a  strife  of 
life  and  death  between  fanaticism  on  the  one  hand, 
which  bade  him  sacrifice  fame  and  posterity  for  the 
victory  of  the  church,  and  on  the  other  ambition, 
which  continually  pleaded  in  his  ears:  "Will  you, 
then,  yourself,  break  down  your  whole  life's  work? 
Will  you,  then,  blindly  desecrate  the  sanc- 
tuary of  history?  Will  you  expose  to  contempt 
the  brilliant  name  which  still,  iu  the  night  of  cap- 
tivity, is  your  wealth  and  your  pride?" 

AH  this,  Lucia  saw  with  the  sharp  eye  of  love; 
she  saw  that  the  man  she  loved,  and  for  whom  she 
had  sacrificed  an  entire  life  in  patience  and  self- 
denial,  might  sink  under  this  terrible  inward  strife; 
and  she  resolved  to  save  him  by  one  bold  and  deci- 
sive step. 

Late    one   evening,   the   lamp   still   burned  on 
Messenius'  writing-table,  where  he  and  the  Jesuit 
had  been  working  together  since  morning.     Lucia 
14 


314  TIMES   OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

had  received  permission  to  retire  to  her  bed,  which 
stood  at  the  other  end  of  the  long  room,  near  the 
door;  and  she  pretended  to  be  asleep.  The  men 
at  the  table  had  flnislied  their  work,  and  were  con- 
versing in  a  low  voice,  now,  as  always,  in  Latin, 
whicli  language  I^ucia  understood  very  well. 

"I  am  content  with  you,  my  friend,"  said  the 
Jesuit,  with  apparent  satisfaction.  "These  docu- 
ments, which  bear  the  stamp  of  truth,  will  be 
sufficient  to  prove  the  conversion  of  King  Gustaf 
Wasa  and  King  Charles;  and  this  introduction, 
signed  by  you,  will  further  strengthen  their 
validity.  I  will  now  return  to  Germany  through 
Sweden,  in  order  to  have  these  documents  jDrinted, 
either  through  our  adherents  in  Stockholm,  or,  if 
found  possible,  in  Lubeck  or  Leyden." 

Messenius  stretched  out  his  hand  involuntarily, 
as  if  to  snatch  back  a  precious  treasure  from  a 
robber's  hands. 

"Holy  father,"  exclaimed  he,  with  visible  con- 
sternation, "is  tliere  then  no  reprieve?  My  name 
my  reputation  .  .  .  Have  mercy  upon 
me,  holy  father! — give  me  back  ray  name!  " 

The  Jesuit  smiled. 

"  Do  I  not  give  you  a  name,"  said  he,  "  far 
greater  and  more  glorious  than  the  one  you  lose — 
a  name  in  the  chronicles  of  our  holy  order — a  name 
among  the  martyrs  and  benefactors  of  the  church 
— a  name  which  may  one  day  be  counted  among 
the  saints?" 

"But  with  all  this,  a  name  without  honor — 
a  liar's,  a  falsifier's  name!"  burst  out  Messenius, 
with  the  despair  of  a  condemned  man  who  is 
shown  the  glory  of  heaven  shining  tlirougli  the 
clouds  of  the  scaflFold. 

"  Weak,  vain  man,  who  do  not  know  that  great 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  315 

ends  are  never  won  by  the  fear  or  praise  of  human- 
ity!" said  the  Jesuit,  in  a  contemptuous  tone. 
"You  might  still  be  able  to  recall  your  word  and 
forfeit  your  claims  to  the  gratitude  of  all  Christen- 
dom. But  happily  it  is  now  impossible.  These 
documents" — and  with  this  he  extended  his  hand 
triumphantly  with  the  papers — "are  now  in  a  hand 
which  knows  how  to  keep  them,  and,  against  your 
will,  to  use  them  for  the  glory  of  the  church,  the 
victory  of  faith,  and  your  own  soul's  eternal  wel- 
fare." 

Father  Hieronymus  had  scarcely  uttered  these 
■words,  before  a  hand  behind  him  swiftly  and  un- 
expectedly  seized  the  papers,  which  he  had  raised 
so  triumphantly,  snatched  them  from  his  hand, 
crumpled  them  together,  tore  them  in  a  hundred 
pieces,  and  strewed  the  fragments  over  the  floor 
of  the  prison.  This  movement  was  so  uniooked 
for,  the  Jesuit  was  so  far  from  expecting  anything 
of  the  kind,  that  he  for  a  moment  lost  his  usual 
resoluteness,  and  with  amazement  which  overcame 
his  presence  of  mind,  gave  the  daring  hand  time  to 
finish  its  work  of  destruction.  When  the  frag- 
ments lying  around  convinced  him  of  the  reality  of 
his  loss,  he  compressed  his  lips  with  rage,  he  raised 
his  arms,  and  with  the  ferocity  of  a  tiger  fell  upon 
the  presumptuous  being  who  had  dared  to  annihilate 
his  plans*in  the  very  moment  of  victory 

Lucia — for  the  daring  hand  was  hers — met  the 
outbreak  of  the  monk's  fury  with  the  energetic 
courage  which  distinguishes  woman  when  she 
struggles  for  her  holiest  possessions.  In  her 
youth  she  had  been  able  to  take  a  man  by  the 
collar,  and  this  scarcely  womanly  streiioth  of  arm 
had  more  than  once  been  exercised  during  the  ccn- 
stant  quarrels  with  the  rude  soldiers  of  the  castle. 


316  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

She  hastily  clasped  her  sinewy  fingers  around  the 
monk's  outstretched  arms,  and  held  them  as  in  a 
vise. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  in  a  mocking  tone,  "keep  your 
distance  from  me,  sir;  what  is  it  you  wish?" 

"  Mad  woman!"  roared  the  Jesuit,  foaming  with 
rage.  "  You  know  not  what  you  have  done!  Miser- 
able thief !  you  have  stolen  a  kingdom  from  your 
church  and  a  paradise  from  your  husband!" 

"And  from  you  I  have  stolen  your  booty — from 
the  wolf  his  secure  prey;  is  it  not  so?"  answered 
Lucia,  in  a  tone  which  in  its  turn  began  to  rise 
with  the  fire  of  her  violent  temper.  "Monk,"  con- 
tinued she,  with  increasing  anger,  as  she  violently 
shook  the  mighty  man,  who  in  vain  tried  to  get 
loose,  "I  know  a  thief  who,  iff  the  sheep's  cloth- 
ing of  the  church,  comes  to  steal  from  a  great 
man  his  honor,  from  a  whole  nation  its  history, 
from  a  poor  forsaken  woman  her  sole  pride  —  her 
husband's  peace,  fame,  and  life.  Tell  me,  pious  and 
holy  monk,  what  punishment  does  such  a  thief  de- 
serve? Would  not  Ammii  falls  be  too  shallow  for 
his  body,  and  the  eternal  fire  too  cool  for  his  soul?" 

The  Jesuit  glanced  quickly  toward  the  window, 
outside  which  the  mighty  torrent  descended 
gloomily  in  the  winter  night. 

"  Ha!"  exclaimed  Lucia,  with  a  bitter  smile, 
"you  fear  me  —  you,  the  powerful  one'who  rules 
kingdoms  and  consciences!  You  fear  that  under 
ray  gray  dress  might  be  concealed  a  man's  arm, 
which  could  hurl  you  down  into  the  cataract's  abyss. 
Be  calm  ...  I  am  only  a  woman,  and  therefore  I 
fight  with  a  woman's  weapons.  You  see  .  .  .  I  do 
not  throw  you  out  of  the  window  ...  I  content 
mvself  with  placinsf  the  wild  beast  behind  bolts  and 
bars.     Tremble,    monk  !     I   know   who   you    are  ! 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  317 

Lucia  Grothusen  has  followed  your  steps;   you  are 
betrayed,  and  it  is  she  who  has  betrayed  you," 

"  Betrayed!"  repeated  the  Jesuit,  who  realized 
but  too  well  what  this  word  involved.  In  a  time 
so  full  of  hatreds,  when  two  religions  fought  to- 
gether for  temporal  and  spiritual  supremacy,  when 
the  Jesuits'  plots  irritated  the  Swedes  in  the  high- 
est degree,  a  member  of  this  order,  detected  in 
disguise  within  the  borders  of  the  kino-dom,  was  lost 
beyond  rescue.  But  the  threatening  peril  restored 
to  this  dangerous  character  all  its  elasticity. 

"  Betrayed  by  you,  my  daughter,"  repeated  he, 
as  his  arms  dropped,  and  his  features  assumed  an 
expression  of  do'^bt  and  mild  grief.  "  That  is  im- 
possible!" 

Lucia  resrarded  him  with  hate  and  distrust. 

"I  your  daughter!"  exclaimed  she,  pushing 
the  monk  from  her  with  aversion.  "  Falsehood  is 
your  daughter,  and  deceit  your  mother.  These  are 
your  relatives!" 

"Lucia  Grothusen,"  said  the  Jesuit,  very  gently, 
"  when  you  were  a  child,  and  followed  your  father, 
Arnold  Grothusen,  who  was  expelled  with  King 
Sigismund,  you  came  one  day,  a  distressed  fugitive, 
and  surrounded  by  persecutors,  to  a  peasant's  cot. 
They  refused  you  refuge;  they  threatened  to  de- 
liver you  to  your  enemies.  Then  your  childish 
eyes  discovered  in  a  corner  of  the  hut  an  image  of 
the  Virgin,  a  relic  from  former  times,  profaned  as 
a  plaything  for  ignorant  children.  You  took  this 
image,  you  kissed  it,  you  held  it  up  before  the. 
hard-hearted  inmates  of  the  cot,  and  said  to  them: 
'See,  the  Virgin  Mary  is  here;  she  will  protect  us!'" 

^' W<3ll,  what  then?"  said  Lucia,  with  aninvol- 
nntary  softness  in  her  voice. 

'•' Your  childish  trust  .  .  .   no;  whatdolsay? — 


318  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


tlie  Holy  Virgin — moved  the  hard  peasants;  they 
gave  you  shelter,  they  placed  you  in  security. 
Still  more,  they  gave  you  the  image,  which  you 
have  ever  since  preserved  as  your  guardian  saint; 
and  there  it  hangs  yet  upon  your  wall.  What  you 
once  said,  I  say  now:  'The  Virgin  Mary  is  here; 
she  will  protect  me.'  " 

Lucia  tried  in  vain  to  struggle  against  an  inner 
emotion.     She  bit  her  lip  and  made  no  reply. 

"You  are  right,"  continued  the  monk,  with 
shrewd  calculation,  "I  am  a  Catholic  like  you,  per- 
secuted like  you;  if  my  disguise  is  known,  they 
will  kill  me.  My  life  is  in  your  hands;  betray  me; 
I  flee  not;  I  die  for  my  faith,  and  I  forgive  you 
my  death." 

"Fly!"  said  Lucia,  half  conquered;  "Igiveyou 
till  to-morrow.  But  only  on  the  condition  that  you 
do  not  see  my  husband  again." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  Jesuit,  sadly,  "  I  fly,  but 
I  leave  here  my  beautiful  dream  of  a  better  future. 
Ah,  I  had  imagined  the  great  Messenius  and  his 
noble  wife  as  those  who  would  reinstate  the  Catho- 
lic church  in  the  North;  I  had  imagined  the  time 
when  millions  of  people  would  say;  'We  wandered 
in  darkness  and  blindness,  but  the  light  of  history 
has  dawned  for  us;  the  great  Messenius  has  re- 
vealed to  us  the  falseness  of  the  Reformation.'" 

"If  it  could  be  done  without  infringing  upon 
the  truth!"  exclaimed  Lucia,  whose  fiery  soul  was 
more  and  more  transported  by  the  future  which 
the  Jesuit  so  skillfully  placed  before  her  view. 

"The  truth!"  repeated  the  Jesuit,  with  mild 
persuasion.  "  Oh,  my  friend,  truth  is  our  faith — 
falseness  is  the  heretics'  faith.  If  you  become 
convinced  that  I   ask  of  your  husband    only   the 


FIRE   AND   WATER.  319 

truth  itself,  will  you  then,  instead  of  tearing  down 
your  church,  help  to  rebuild  it?" 

"Yes,  I  will!"  answered  Lucia,  warmly  and 
earnestly. 

"  Then  listen  .  .  ."  continued  the  Jesuit;  but 
he  was  just  then  interrupted  by  Messenius,  who, 
hitherto  stunned  and  crestfallen,  now  seemed  to 
waken    from  a  horrible  dream. 

^'■Abi,  male  spiritus  P''  exclaimed  he,  with  frantic 
violence,  as  though  he  feared  the  Jesuit's  serpent 
tongue  would  once  more  conquer.  ^'■Abi,  Abi ! 
you  are  not  a  human  being,  you  are  the  prince  of 
lies  himself,  you  are  the  very  serpent  of  paradise! 
'Abi^  abi  in  ceternam  ignem,  sabitacuhim  tuwn^  in 
regnum  mendacii^  imperiwn  tuutn  .^"  And  with 
this  he  pushed  the  Jesuit  before  him  toward  the 
door,  while  Lucia  made  not  the  least  effort  to 
hinder. 

'■'■  Insanit  tniser  f''  muttered  the  Jesuit,  as  he 
disappeared. 

"Thanks,  my  friend!"  said  Lucia,  with  a  re- 
lieved heart,  as  though  freed  from  a  dang-erous 
spell. 

"Thanks,  Lucia!"  answered  Messenius,  more 
mildlv  than  usual  with  him  for  a  lonsf  time  in  ad- 
dressinsc  his  wife. 


320  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE    JUDGMENT    OF    THE    SAINTS. 

'\  rERY  early  the  following  morning,  Father 
*  Hieronymus  entered  the  room  occupied  by 
Lady  Regina  von  Emmeritz  and  old  Dorthe.  Pale 
from  vigils  and  grief,  the  beautiful  girl  sat  by  the 
bedside  of  her  faithful  servant.  At  the  entrance 
of  the  Jesuit,  Regina  hastily  rose. 

"Save  Dorthe,  my  father!"  she  exclaimed  im- 
petuously. .  .  .  "I  have  looked  for  you  every- 
where, and  you  have  abandoned  me!  " 

"Hush!"  said  the  Jesuit  in  a  whisper.  "Speak 
low;  the  walls  have  ears.  So  .  .  .  indeed! 
.  .  .  Dorthe  is  sick?  Poor  old  woman!  it  is 
too  bad;  I  cannot  help  her.  They  have  found  out 
our  disguise.  They  suspect  us.  We  must  flee 
this  day — this  moment." 

"Not  before  you  have  made  Dorthe  well.  I  be- 
seech you,  my  father;  you  are  wise,  you  know  all 
remedies;  give  Dorthe  a  restorative,  immediate  in  its 
effect,  and  we  will  follow  you  wherever  you  choose." 

"  Impossible! — we  have  not  a  moment  to  lose. 
Come!" 

"  Not  without  Dorthe,  my  father!  Holy  Virgin! 
should  I  abandon  her,  mv  nurse,  my  motherly 
friend?" 

The  Jesuit  stepped  to  the  bed,  took  the  old 
woman's  hand,  touched  her  brow,  and  pointed  to  it 
in  silence,  with  a  mien  of  which  Regina  but  too 
well  understood  the  significance. 


FIRE  AND    WATER.  331 

"She  is  dead!"  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  in 
dismay. 

"Yes;  what  matters  it?"  continued  the  Jesuit; 
and  a  strangely  sinister  smile  struggled  with  the 
air  of  regret  which  he  tried  to  assume.  "  You  see, 
my  child,"  added  ho,  "that  the  saints  have  wished 
to  spare  our  faithful  friend  a  toilsome  road,  and 
have  taken  her  instead  up  to  the  heavenly  glory. 
There  is  nothinof'  more  to  be  done  here.     Come!" 

CD 

But,  in  the  midst  of  her  tears,  Regina  had  per- 
ceived the  peculiar  smile,  and  it  struck  her  with  an 
indescribable  terror.  She  seemed  to  divine  a  dark 
secret. 

"Come!"  repeated  he,  hastily.  "I  will  give 
Messenius'  wife,  who  is  a  Catholic,  the  charge  of 
burying  our  friend." 

Regina's  dark  eyes  stared  at  the  monk  in 
horror. 

"  Last  evening,  at  seven  o'clock,"  said  she, 
"  Dorthe  was  in  good  health.  Then  she  drank  the 
potion  of  strengthening  herbs  which  you  have  pre- 
pared for  her  each  evening.  At  eight  o'clock  she 
was  taken  ill  .  .  .  ten  hours  afterward  she  has 
ceased  to  live." 

"The  fatigue  of  the  long  journey  ...  a 
cold  ...  an  inflammation  .  .  .  nothing 
more  is  wanted.  Come!  "  said  the  Jesuit,  un- 
easily. 

But  Regina  did  not  go. 
"  Monk!"  said  she,  in  a  voice  that  trembled  with 
horror  and  loathing,  "you  have  given  her  poison." 

"My  child,  my  daughter,  what  are  you  thinking 
of?  Grief  has  unsettled  your  reason;  come,  I 
forg-ive  vou." 

"She  was  a  burden  to  you     ...     I  saw  your 
impatience  on  our  journey   here.     And  now   you 
V 


323  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

\vish  me  to  place  myself  in  your  power  without 
protection.  Holy  Virgin,  save  me!  I  will  not  go 
with  you!  " 

The  Jesuit's  mobile  features  hastily  changed 
their  expression,  and  assumed  that  commanding 
severity  with  which  he  had  made   Messenius  yield. 

"Child,"  said  he,  "  do  not  draw  upon  yourself 
the  anoT'er  of  the  saints  bv  listeninnf  to  the  suo-o-es- 
tions  of  the  tempter.  Remember  where  you  are, 
unfortunate,  and  who  you  are.  One  moment's 
further  hesitation,  and  I  leave  you  here,  a  prey  to 
want,  captivity,  death;  a  target  for  the  heretics' 
scorn,  a  lost  sheep  which  the  Holy  Virgin  has 
abandoned.  Here,  perdition  and  misery 
there,  in  your  fatherland,  freedom,  fortune,  the 
comforts  of  religion,  the  favor  of  the  saints. 
Choose,  but  choose  quickly,  for  the  sleigh  stands 
waiting;  the  morning  dawns,  and  day  must  not 
find  us  in  this  heretic  den." 

Regina  hesitated. 

"  Swear,"  said  she,  "  that  you  are  innocent  of 
Dorthe's  death!" 

"I  swear  it,"  exclaimed  the  Jesuit,"  by  this 
cross  and  by  the  holy  Loyola's  bones.  May  the 
firm  ground  open  under  my  feet,  and  the  abyss 
swallow  me  alive,  if  I  have  ever  given  this  woman 
any  other  drink  than  that  of  healtli  and  healing." 

"Well,"  said  Regina,  "the  saints  have  heard 
your  oath  and  written  it  down  in  the  book  of  judg- 
ment. Farewell,  Dorthe,  my  friend,  my  mother! 
Come,  let  us  go!  " 

Both  hurried  out! 

It  was  still  dark.  A  pale  streak  of  light  ap- 
peared over  the  dusky  firs  at  the  borders  of  Koivu- 
koski  fall.  The  horses  stood  harnessed  to  the 
sleigh.     The  sleepy  guard  at  the  castle  gates  gave 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  323 

free  passage  to  the  physician,  whose  familiar  inter- 
course with  the  cominaiuier  was  ktiown  to  all. 

Tlie  Jesuit  believed  himself  already  in  safety, 
when  a  sleigh  from  the  mainland  met  the  fus^itives 
on  the  narrow  bridge,  and  drove  close  up  to  them 
in  the  darkness.  The  monk's  sleigh  turned  partly 
upon  its  side,  and  was  hindered  only  by  the  half- 
rotten  and  rickety  railing  of  the  bridge  from  up- 
setting into  the  depths  below. 

Regina  gave  a  cry  of  affright. 

At  the  sound,  a  man  sprang  from  the  other 
sleigh  and  approached  the  fugitives. 

"  Regina! "  cried  a  well-known  voice,  which 
trembled  from  surprise. 

"  You  are  tnistaken,  my  friend,"  the  Jesuit  hur- 
ried to  say,  in  a  disguised  voice.  "  Give  way  to 
Doctor  Albertus  Siuionis,  army  physician  in  the 
service  of  his  royal  majesty." 

"Ha!  it  is  you,  miserable  Jesuit!"  cried  the 
stranger.  "Guard,  to  arms!  To  arms,  and  seize 
the  greatest  villain  on  earth!  "  And  so  saying,  he 
grasped  the  monk  by  his  fur  cloak. 

For  an  instant  Hieronymus  tried  to  disengage 
the  sleigh  and  escape  by  the  speed  of  his  horses. 
But  when  he  found  that  this  was  impossible,  he 
left  his  fur  cloak  behind  him,  squirmed  from  his 
enemy's  grasp,  and,  throwing  himself  quickly  over 
the  railing  of  the  bridge,  jumped  down  on  the  ice, 
which,  in  the  unusually  intense  cold,  had  formed 
between  the  castle  island  atid  the  mainland.  In  a 
short  time  he  had  disappeared  in  the  twilight. 

The  guardsman  at  the  castle  gates,  attracted  by 
the  crv,  discharged  his  arun  after  the  fuofitive,  but 
witliout  hittino;'  him.  Some  of  the  soldiers  were 
inclined  to  pursue  him  on  the  ice. 

"  Don't  do  that,  boys!"   cried   a  bearded   ser- 


334  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

geant;  "  it  has  thawed  during  the  night,  the  stream 
has  cut  the  ice  underneath;  I  think  it  will  break 
up  to-day." 

"  But  he  jumped  down  there!"  cried  some. 

"  The  devil  will  p'et  him,"  answered  the  ser- 
geant,  calmly,  ligliting  his  morning  pipe.  "I  think 
by  this  time  he  has  reached  Ammii." 

"  What  do  you  say?"  exclaimed  the  man  from 
the  other  sleigh,  in  horror. 

"  I  say  that  the  old  woman  *  has  got  her  break- 
fast to-day,"  answered  the  sergeant,  with  undis- 
turbed composure.  "Listen!  she  barks  like  a 
chained  dog;  now  she  is  satisfied." 

All  listened,  appalled,  to  the  din  of  the  waters. 
It  seemed  to  them  that  the  mighty  fall  roared  more 
wildly,  more  terribly  than  before,  in  the  gray  winter 
twilight.  The  sergeant  was  right;  it  was  like  the 
howl  of  an  angry  dog  that  has  secured  its  prey. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

BERTEL    AND   REGINA. 

OUR  wandering  Don  Quixote,  whom  we  left, 
worn  out  by  the  fatigue  of  his  adventures, 
sleeping  in  a  peasant's  cottage  at  Ylihiirma,  re-ap- 
peared at  Kajana  castle,  engaged  in  the  vain  at- 
tempt to  secure  the  feared  and  hated  Jesuit,  whom 
he  had  recognized  through  the  window-pane  of 
the  miserable  forest  hut.  Bertel's  circuitous  course 
during  the  ten  or  twelve  days  interim  can  easily  be 
imagined.     Led  by  false  traces  in  his  chase  after 

*  The  Finnish  word  Ammd  means  old  woman. 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  325 

the  fugitives,  he  had  scoured  all  the  roads  in  East 
Bothnia,  as  far  even  as  Uleaborg;  and  it  was  only 
when  he  there  lost  all  track  of  them  that  he  re- 
solved, as  a  last  resort,  to  seek  the  fugitives  far 
away  in  the  wilderness  of  Kajana.  Why  the  young 
knight  pursued  them  with  such  an  indefatigable 
perseverance,  will  soon  be  shown. 

Some  hours  after  the  scene  on  the  bridge,  we 
find  Bertel  in  the  new  apartment  which  the  gov- 
ernor had  assigned  to  Lady  Regina,  and  where  she 
was  under  the  protection  of  one  of  his  female  re- 
latives. More  tlian  three  years  had  elapsed  since 
these  two  young  people  last  met,  under  such  differ- 
ent circumstances,  in  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  in  the 
presence  of  the  great  king.  Bertel  was  then  an 
inexperienced  youth  of  twenty,  Regina  an  equally 
inexperienced  girl  of  sixteen.  Both  had  since  then 
endured  many  trials;  with  both  had  the  first  burn- 
ing enthusiasm  of  youth  been  cooled  by  trials  and 
by  suffering.  The  distance  between  the  prince's 
daughter  and  the  humble  lieutenant  had  been 
diminished  through  Bertel's  military  fame  and 
lately  acquired  coat  of  arms;  nay,  at  this  moment, 
she,  an  abandoned  prisoner,  might  consider  herself 
honored  by  the  attentions  of  a  nobleman.  But  the 
distance  between  their  convictions,  their  sym- 
pathies, their  hearts — had  this  been  diminished 
through  these  trials,  which  generally  strengthen  a 
conviction  instead  of  breaking  it? 

Bertel  approached  the  young  lady  with  all  the 
stately  courtesy  which  the  etiquette  of  his  time 
had  retained  as  an  inheritance  from  the  chivalry 
of  past  centuries. 

"  My  lady,"  said  he,  in  a  slightly  trembling 
voice,  "since  my  hope  of  finding  you  at  Korsholm 
failed,    I    have   pursued   you    through    forest   and 


326  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


wilderness,  as  one  pursues  a  criminal.  Perhaps 
you  divine  the  cause  that  prompted  me  to  do 
so?" 

Regina's  long  black  eyelashes  were  slowly  lifted, 
and  she  regarded  Bertel  with  an  inquiring  glance. 

"  Sir,"  answered  she,  "whatever  has  prompted 
you,  I  am  convinced  that  your  reasons  have  been 
noble  and  chivalrous.  You  cannot  have  meant  to 
take  an  unhappy  young  girl  back  to  her  prison;  you 
have  only  wished  to  snatch  her  away  from  a  man 
whom  the  poor  deceived  one  has  regarded  ever 
since  childhood  as  a  holy  and  pious  person,  and 
whose  deeply  concealed  wickedness  she  has  now 
for  the  first  time  learned  to  know  and  detest." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  Bertel,  with  warmth 
and  animation.  "  It  is  true  I  shuddered  when  I 
saw  you  in  the  company  of  this  man,  whose  real 
character  I  perceived  before  you,  and  I  then  re- 
doubled my  efforts  to  rescue  you  from  his  hands. 
But  before  1  imagined  any  danger  from  that  di- 
rection, I  hastened  to  find  you  with  tlie  glad  tid- 
ings of  a  deed  of  justice  .  .  .  late,  but  I  hope  not 
too  late." 

"A  deed  of  justice,  you  say?"  repeated  Re- 
gina,  with  a  surprise  which  drove  the  blood  to  her 
cheeks. 

"Yes,  my  lady,"  continued  Bertel,  regarding  in 
amazement  this  picture  of  dazzling  beauty,  "at 
last,  after  several  years  of  vain  effort,  I  have  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  this  deed  of  justice  toward  an 
innocent  sufferer.  You  are  free;  you  can  now,  un- 
der the  protection  of  the  Swedish  arms,  return  to 
your  fatherland;  and  here — "at  these  words  Bertel 
bent  his  knee  and  handed  Regina  a  paper  witli  the 
regency's  seal — "hei-e  is  the  document  which  in- 
sures your  freedom." 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  327 


Regiiia  had  overcome  her  first  emotion,  and  re- 
ceived the  precious  document  with  cool  dignity. 

"Sir,"  said  she,  in  short  and  measured  tones, 
"  I  know  tliat  you  do  not  ask  my  thanks  for  havino-, 
beyond  any  of  your  countrymen,  acted  like  a  man 
of  honor." 

Bertel  arose,  a  little  surprised  at  this  pride, 
which  however  he  ought  to  have  expected. 

"  Wiiat  I  have  done,"  said  he,  with  a  touch  of 
coldness  in  his  turn,  "1  have  done  only  to  efface 
an  act  of  injustice  which  might  have  thrown  a 
shadow  upoti  the  memory  of  a  great  king.  Each 
one  of  my  countrymen  would  have  done  the  same 
as  I,  had  not  the  exigencies  of  war  made  him  for- 
get the  reparation  you  had  a  right  to  demand. 
First  of  all  would  the  noble-minded  King  Gustaf 
Adolf  have  sought  to  make  amends  for  the  hasty 
deed  of  a  moment's  indiscretion,  had  not  Providence 
so  suddenly  cut  short  his  days.  .  .  .  But,"  said  Ber- 
tel, interrupting  himself,  "I  forget  that  the  king 
whom  I  love  and  admire,  you  hate!" 

At  these  words  the  bright  and  beautiful  color 
again  rose  to  Regina's  cheeks.  Without  knowing 
it,  Bertel  had  touched  one  of  the  most  sensitive 
chords  in  this  ardent  heart.  A  new  discovery — a 
wonderful  resemblance  in  figure,  voice,  gesture, 
nay,  in  thought,  a  resemblance  which  she  had  never 
before  observed,  and  which  these  three  years  had 
developed  in  Bertel's  whole  personality— made  an 
indescribable  impression  upon  the  young  South- 
erner's soul.  It  seemed  to  her  that'^she  saw  him 
himself,  the  greatest  of  mortals,  the  pride  of  her 
dreams,  her  life's  ha]>piness  and  misery;  him,  the 
beloved  and  feared,  the  conqueror  of  her  country, 
her  faith,  and  her  heart  .  .  .  and   that  he  himself 


328  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


said  to  her,  in  the  well-known  tones:  "  Regina  you 
hate  me." 

This  impression  came  so  swiftly,  so  strongly,  and 
with  such  a  surprising  power,  that  Regina  suddenly 
grew  pale,  staggered,  and  was  compelled  to  lean 
on  Bertel's  outstretched  arm. 

"Holy  Virgin!"  whispered  she,  bewildered, 
and  not  knowing  what  she  said,  "  should  I  hate 
you     .     .      .     you  whom  I       ..." 

Bertel  caught  this  half-unspoken  word,  incom- 
prehensible and  yet  so  full  of  meaning,  with  a 
surprise  as  sudden  and  unexpected  as  Regina's. 
Beside  himself  with  amazement,  fear,  and  hope,  he 
was  still  too  chivalric  to  avail  himself  of  so  invol- 
untary a  confession.  Mute  and  respectful,  he  led 
the  young  girl  to  her  protector,  in  whose  care  she 
soon  recovered  from  her  sudden  faintness — an 
effect  of  long-suppressed  emotions,  which  now 
sought  relief. 

Bertel  liad  obtained  the  commission  to  escort 
Lady  Regina  von  Emmeritz  to  Stockholm,  from 
whence  she  could,  at  the  opening  of  navigation, 
return  to  her  fatherland.  He  was  therefore  at 
liberty  to  remain  at  Kajana  Castle  until  his  charge 
should  be  ready  for  the  journey;  and  this  event 
was  again  delayed  through  the  unforeseen  lack  of  a 
fitting  female  "companion  for  the  high-born  pris- 
oner. 

Weeks  passed  in  the  waiting,  and  during  this 
time  entirely  new  relations  were  formed,  which  one 
could  scarcely  have  surmised  from  Regina's  proud 
coldness  toward  her  deliverer.  Ah!  this  coldness 
was  the  ice  over  a  glowing  volcano;  every  day  it 
grew  thinner,  and  melted;  every  day  Regina's 
pride  became  haughtier,  while  its  foundations 
gradually  gave   way;  and  at  last  there   remained 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  329 


only  one  barrier — the  strongest  one  of  all,  it  is 
true — the  bitter  struggle  of  religious  convictions. 
Vain  wall!  '  It,  too,  finally  crumbled  before  the  fire 
of  a  Southern  passion;  and  ere  three  weeks  were 
ended,  the  girl  of  nineteen  and  the  youth  of 
twenty-three  had  forgotten  all  differences  of  faith 
and  rank,  and  sworn  each  other  fidelity  for  life. 
Did  Bertel  know  that  he  had  to  thank  the  memory 
of  Gustaf  Adolf  for  his  beautiful,  his  proud,  his 
black-eyed  bride? 

A  singular  destiny  waited  to  seal  this  union  in 
an  unexpected  and  wonderful  manner.  With  a 
secret  anxiety  for  his  happiness,  Bertel  had  in  vain 
tried  to  discover  the  fate  of  the  Jesuit.  Since  the 
morning  when  the  monk  jumped  over  the  railing 
of  the  bridge,  no  one  had  heard  or  seen  anything 
of  him,  until,  three  weeks  afterwards,  a  peasant 
reported  that  on  opening  the  ice  a  little  below 
Amma  fall,  they  had  found  the  body  of  a  man 
without  ears,  clothed  in  foreign  garments,  which 
the  peasant  brought  with  him,  and  which  were 
recognized  as  those  of  Father  Hieronymus.  In 
addition,  the  honest  Paldamo  peasant  produced  a 
little  copper  ring  which  had  been  found  hanging 
by  a  cord  around  the  dead  man's  neck. 

Bertel  looked  at  this  ring  with  amazement  and 
joy. 

"At  last  I  have  you!  "  exclaimed  he,  "this  ring 
which  I  have  so  long  lost  .  .  .  and  with  you 
the  certainty  of  the  death  of  this  formidable  man." 

"  The  judgment  of  the  saints  upon  the  per- 
jurer! "  exclaimed  Regina,  awe-stricken. 

"The  judgment  of  the  saints,  which  confirms 
our  happiness!"  rejoined  Bertel,  and  placed  on 
Regina's  finger  the  King's  Ring. 

14* 


330  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE    king's    ring. THE    SWORD    AND  THE    PLOUGH.. 

FIRE    AND    WATER. 

ONCE  more  we  return  to  Storkyro,  to  BertHa's 
farm,  and  to  the  old  peasant-king. 
It  is  a  wintry  day  in  March,  1635.  The  snow 
already  feels  the  influence  of  the  spring  sun,  and 
drips  from  the  roofs  upon  the  sunny  side;  the  icy 
crust  upon  the  northern  slope  of  the  hills  is  firm 
and  unyielding,  but  breaks  on  the  southern  side. 
Aaron  Bertila  is  just  returning  from  church,  with 
all  his  people;  his  gray  head  is  bowed;  he  leans  on 
Meri's  arm.  At  his  side  walk  two  precious  looking 
thick-set  figures — the  old  Larsson,  and  his  lately 
returned  son,  the  brave  and  learned  captain  of  the 
same  name,  the  faithful  imao-e  of  his  little  father, 
except  in  years.  Walking  beside  him  is  his  young 
wife,  a  pretty  and  light-hearted  little  creature,  whose 
features  we  reco2:nize.  She  is  none  other  than 
Katchen,  the  plucky  and  merry  girl,  whose  soft 
hand  once  made  the  noble  captain  lose  his  wits. 
After  that  day  he  swore  by  all  the  Greek  and 
Roman  authors,  whom  he  formerly  read  in  Abo 
Cathedral  School — sic  wide  ubi  ajnid  unquam  j^ost, 
as  the  ancients  used  to  express  themselves — that 
the  soft-handed  novice  among  the  Wiirtzburg  sis- 
ters  of  charity  should  one  day  become  his.  And 
when  the  vicissitudes  of  war  again  brought  tliem 
together,  when  Katchen  was  without  protection, 
and,  besides,  had  nothing  against  an  honest  and 


FIRE  AMD   WATER.  331 


jovial  soldier,  this  cheerful  and  contented  pair  were 
wedded  in  due  form  in  the  autumn,  at  Stralsund, 
and  then  went  to  visit  their  round-bodied  jrood- 
hearted  father  in  Storkyro,  where  t.hey  were  warmly 
welcomed,  and  received  as  children. 

It  must  be  added  that  Larsson  had  quit  the  ser- 
vice, and  after  much  hio-o-Uno- obtained  his  discharo-e, 
but  without  promotion.  He  complained  that 
he  had  not  a  farthing  left  from  the  spoils  of  Ger- 
many, though  so  many  of  his  fellow-soldiers  had. 
All  that  he  had  earned — and  if  we  can  believe  him, 
it  must  have  been  millions  —  had  taken  wings; 
where?  At  Nordlingen,  he  says.  Certainly:  in 
revels  and  sprees  with  jolly  fellows  of  the  same 
calibre  as  himself.  But  now  he  meant  to  be  as 
regular  and  steady  as  a  gate-post;  to  succeed  his 
father  as  overseer  of  Bertila's  large  farms;  to 
plough,  sow,  harvest,  and/)?'o  modulo  virimn  pro- 
lem  copioscun  in  lucem  proferre^  as  the  ancients  so 
truly  expressed  themselves. 

Old  Bertila  treats  him  with  apparent  favor. 
Significant  words  have  escaped  the  old  man,  and 
he  has  just  delivered  his  will  into  the  hands  of  the 
judge. 

As  for  Meri,  she  has  withered  like  a  flower 
without  roots,  and  clings  to  life  only  by  her  feeble 
heart-thread — the  banished  and  rejected  Gustaf 
Bertel,  now  ennobled  to  Bertelskdld. 

This  domestic  circle,  composed  of  such  different 
elements,  both  shadowy  and  bright,  is  now 
gathered  in  the  large  room,  surrounded  by  the  nu- 
merous laborers;  and  old  Larsson  still  tries,  in  secret 
alliance  with  Meri,  to  soften  the  mind  of  the  stern 
peasant-king  toward  Bertel.  All  their  prayers  and 
reasons  are  stranded  against  the  unbending  firm- 
ness of  the  old  man.     Larsson  turns  away  angrily; 


332  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Meri  conceals  her  tears  in  the  darkest  shadows  of 
the  room. 

Then  is  heard  again  the  tinkling  of  sleigh- 
bells  outside,  as  on  Epiphany  evening;  a  large 
sleigh  stops  in  the  yard,  and  two  persons  alight 
from  it:  an  officer  in  his  large  cloak,  and  a  voung 
beautiful  woman  in  a  magnificent  mantle  of  black 
velvet  lined  with  costly  fur.  Meri  and  old  Larsson 
turn  pale  at  this  sight;  Larsson  .hastens  out,  but  it 
is  too  late.     Bertel  and  Regiiia  enter  the  room. 

Both  the  Larssons  and  Meri  surround  Bertel, 
with  warm  although  apparently  embarrassed  greet- 
ings. Kiitchen  jumps  up,  and,  without  thinking  of 
the  difl'erence  between  her  burgher  dress  and  the 
costly  velvet  cloak,  throws  herself  into  Regina's 
arms,  who,  with  emotion,  clasps  to  her  heart  the 
faithful  friend  of  her  childhood. 

Bertel  frees  himself  arentlv  from  Meri's  embi'ace, 
and  goes  with  a  firm  step  straight  up  to  old  Ber- 
tila,  who,  mute  and  cold  in  his  high-backed  chair 
at  the  end  of  the  table,  does  not  honor  him  with  a 
word  or  a  glance. 

All  present  await  with  dismayed  looks  the  result 
of  this  meetina",  which  thev  all  know  must  be 
decisive.  The  young  officer  has  removed  his  cloak 
and  hat;  his  long  fair  hair  falls  in  beautiful  curls 
around  his  open  brow;  his  cheeks  are  very  pale, 
but  the  blue  and  expressive  eyes  regard  the  iron- 
hard  features  of  the  gray-haired  man  with  a  firm 
and  steadfast  o-aze. 

Bertel  now,  as  before,  bends  his  knee,  and  says, 
in  a  voice  at  once  humble  and  steadv: 

"My  father!" 

"Who  are  you?  I  know  you  not;  I  have  no 
son!  "  interrupted  the  old  man,  in  chilling  tones. 

"My  father!"  continued  Bertel,  without  allow- 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  333 

ing  himself  to  be  discomfited,  "  I  come  once  more, 
and  for  the  last  time,  to  ask  your  forgiveness  and 
blessing.  Do  not  repulse  me!  I  leave  my  father- 
land, to  fight  and  perhaps  die  on  German  soil.  It 
depends  upon  you  whether  T  ever  return.  Re- 
member, my  father,  that  your  blessing  restores  to 
you  a  son;  that  your  curse  drives  him  into  exile 
forever." 

The  old  man  in  the  high-backed  chair  does  not 
change  a  feature,  but  his  voice  betrays  an  inward 
struggle. 

"My  answer  is  brief,"  said  he.  "  I  had  a  son; 
he  became  unworthy  of  me  and  all  the  principles 
which  have  governed  my  life.  He  abandoned  the 
cause  of  the  people,  for  that  of  the  pernicious 
power  of  the  nobility,  which  I  hate  and  detest.  I 
have  no  longer  a  son.  I  have  to-day  disinherited 
him." 

The  faces  of  the  hearers  turn  pale  at  these 
words.     But  Bertel  colors  slightly,  and  says: 

"  My  father,  I  do  not  ask  your  property.  Give 
it  to  whomsoever  you  consider  more  worthy  than  I. 
I  ask  onlv  vour  forgiveness  .  .  .  your  bless- 
ing,  my  father." 

All  except  Regina  surround  the  old  man,  fall 
on  their  knees,  and  exclaim:  "Grace  for  Bertel! 
Grace  for  your  son !  " 

"  And  if  I  had  a  son,  do  you  believe  he  would 
for  my  sake  give  up  his  false  ambition  for  the  dis- 
tinctions of  nobility?  Do  you  believe  that  he 
would  become  a  peasant  like  me,  a  man  of  the 
people  like  me,  ready  to  live  and  die  for  their 
cause?  Do  you  believe  that  he,  with  his  fine 
gloved  hands,  would  plough  the  earth  and  would 
choose  a  wife  from  my  station,  a  simple  and  honest 


334  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

woman,  as  becomes  a  true   man,   without   parade 
and  boasting?" 

"  My  lather,"  says  Bertel,  in  a  voice  more  trem- 
ulous than  before,  "  what  you  ask  has  been  made 
impossible  by  the  education  you  yourself  have 
given  me.  I  will  honor  and  respect  your  station; 
but  I  have  been  bred  to  the  career  of  a  soldier,  and 
that  I  will  not,  I  cannot  abandon.  To  choose  a 
wife  according  to  your  mind,  is  equally  impossible. 
Here  statids  my  mate;  she  is  a  prince's  daughter, my 
father,  but  she  has  not  blushed  to  choose  a  peas- 
ant's son  for  her  husband;  let  this  be  a  proof  that 
she  will  not  blush  to  call  you  father." 

At  these  words,  Regina  approaches  humbly,  as 
if  to  kiss  the  old  man's  hand;  and  all  except  Bertel 
and  his  father  rise.  But  the  fiery  temper  of  Ber- 
tila,  the  peasant  king,  flames  forth  in  anger. 

"Did  I  not  say  so!"  exclaims  he,  in  thundering 
■tones.  "  There  stands  the  renegade  who  was  born  a 
free  peasant  and  became  a  servant  of  lords!  Ha! 
by  God!  I  have  in  my  day  seen  much  strife  and 
much  defiance  between  tlie  sword  and  the  plough; 
but  a  defiance  like  this  I  have  never  seen.  The 
boy  who  calls  himself  my  son  dares  tobrino-  before 
my  eyes  his  high-born  harlot  and  call  her  his  wife." 

Bertel  springs  up  and  supports  Regina,  who  at 
these  words  almost  sinks  to  the  floor. 

"Old  man,"  says  he,  in  a  voice  trembling  with 
anger,  "  thank  your  name  of  father  and  your  gray 
head  tlmt  you  have  been  allowed  to  utter  what  no 
one  else  could  have  uttered,  and  lived  an  hour 
thereafter.  Here  is  the  ring  I  placed  on  the  hand 
of  my  lawfully  wedded  wife," — at  these  words  he 
takes  from  Regina's  finger  the  kinar's  rino- — "  and 
I  swear  that  her  hand  is  as  pure  and  as  worthy  as 
that  of  any  mortal  to  wear  this  ring,  which  for  so 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  335 

many  years  has  been  worn  upon  the  finger  of  the 
greatest  king." 

Meri's  eyes  stare  at  the  ring;  her  pale  cheeks 
are  colored  by  a  deep  flush;  she  struggles  violently 
with  herself.  Finally  she  steps  nearer,  presses  the 
ring  with  ecstacy  to  her  lips,  and  says,  in  a  broken 
voice,  and  with  an  emotion  so  strono:  that  it  dries 
every  tear  in  her  eyes: 

"  My  ring  which  he  has  worn  .  .  .  my  ring 
which  has  protected  him  .  .  .  thou  art  inno- 
cent of  his  death;  he  gave  thee  away,  and  then 
came  the  bullets,  then  came  death.  Do  you  know, 
Gustaf  Bertel,  and  you,  his  wife,  the  real  power  of 
this  ring?  In  my  youth  I  went  one  day  into  the 
wilderness,  and  found  there  a  dying  man,  who  was 
lanti-uishino:  from  thirst.  I  ffave  him  drink  from 
the  spring;  I  refreshed  his  tongue  with  the  juice 
of  berries.  He  thanked  me,  and  said:  '  My  friend, 
I  am  dying,  and  have  no  other  reward  to  offer  you 
than  this  rinsr.  I  found  it  on  an  imao'e  of  the 
Holy  Virgin,  which  alone  was  left  uninjured  in  the 
midst  of  the  broken  emblems  of  Popish  rites,  in 
Storkyro  church;  and  when  1  took  the  ring  from 
the  finger  of  the  Virgin,  the  image  fell  to  dust. 
This  ring  has  at  once  the  power  of  the  saints  and 
of  magic,  for  with  me  the  ancient  greatness  of 
sorcery  descends  into  the  grave.'  He  who  wears 
this  ring  is  secure  against  fire,  water,  steel,  and  all 
kinds  of  dangers,  on  the  sole  condition  that  he 
never  swears  a  false  oath,  for  that  annuls  the  power 
of  the  ring;  with  this  ring  goes  happiness  in  peace, 
and  victory  in  war:  love,  honor,  and  fortune;  and 
when  it  is  worn  by  three  generations  successively 
from  father  to  son,  then  from  that  family  shall  come 
.brilliant  generals  and  statesmen     .     .     ." 


336  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

Here  Meri  paused;  all  listened  with  intense 
expectation. 

"  But,"  continued  she,  "  if  the  ring  is  worn  by- 
six  succeeding  generations,  then  shall  spring  from 
that  family  a  powerful  dynasty.  '  But,'  said  the 
old  man  to  me, '  you  ought  to  know  that  great  gifts 
are  accompanied  by  great  dangers.  False  oaths 
and  family  enmity  will  constantly  tempt  the  pos- 
sessor of  the  ring,  and  seek  to  neutralize  its  power; 
pride  and  inordinate  ambition  will  continually 
work  within  his  breast  to  prepare  his  fall;  and  a 
great  steadfastness  of  soul  will  be  required,  joined 
with  a  meek  and  humble  heart,  to  overcome  these 
temptations.  He  who  possesses  and  wears  this 
ring  shall  enjoy  all  happiness  in  this  world,  and 
only  have  to  conquer  himself;  but  he  will  also  be 
the  most  formidable  enemy  of  his  own  happiness. 
All  this  is  sisTuified  by  the  three  letters,  B,.  R.  J?., 
which  are  engraved  on  the  inside  of  the  ring,  and 
interpreted  by  these  words:  Rex  Regi  Rebellis — 
the  king  rebels  against  the  king;  the  happiest,  the 
mightiest  among  men,  has  to  fear  the  greatest 
danger  within  his  own  breast.'  " 

"And  this  rinof,  O  Rearina,  is  ours!  "  exclaimed 
Bertel,  with  mingled  fear  and  joy.  "  What  a 
wealth  and  what  a  responsibility  go  with  this 
ring!  " 

"  Beware,  my  daughter!"  said  Meri,  sadly. 
"  Behind  these  words  lurks  the  greatest  danger  of 
the  ring." 

The  old  Bertila  regarded  the  ring  and  the 
young  people  with  a  contemptuous  smile: 

"False  gold!"  said  he.  "Vanity!  Useless  or- 
nament! False  ambition!  This  is  a  gift  worthy  to 
descend  from  generation  to  generation  among  the 


FT  RE  AMD   WATER.  337 

nobility.  Come,  young  Larsson,  you,  who  are  also 
of  peasant  origin  and  who  wish  to  return  to  your 
station,  although  you  have  been  a  soldier, — I  will 
give  you  something  which  is  neither  gold  nor  use- 
less ornament,  but  which  will  perhaps  bring  you 
more  blessings  than  all  the  kings'  rings  in  the 
world.  Take  my  old  axe  with  the  oak  handle 
from  the  wall  there;  yes,  fear  not,  there  is  no 
magic  in  that;  my  father  forged  it  with  his  own 
hand,  in  Gustaf  Wasa's  time.  With  it,  my  father 
and  I  have  done  great  deeds  in  the  forests,  and 
cleared  many  a  field.  May  it  descend  through 
your  family;  and  I  promise  you  that  he  who  pos- 
sesses my  axe  shall  be  blessed  with  happiness  and 
contentment  in  Iiis  honest  labor." 

"  Thanks,  Father  Bertila,"  answered  the  cap- 
tain gleefully,  as  with  an  air  of  importance  he 
tried  the  edge  of  the  old  axe.  "  If  we  took  a  fancy 
to  engrave  any  inscription  on  it,  I  should  propose 
R.  R.  R.,  Ruris  Rusticus  Rohustus^  which  is  to 
say  briefly.  'The  devil  cannot  disturb  such  a  pow- 
erful chopper!  '  a  very  beautiful  and  thoughtful 
saying  among  the  ancients." 

The  elder  Larsson  now  thought  the  oppor- 
tunity at  hand  to  give  the  bitter  contest  a  more 
placable  turn.  He  stepped  up  to  old  Bertila,  lead- 
ing by  the  hand  the  two  newly  married  couples, 
and  said: 

"  Dear  old  friend,  let  us  not  meddle  in  the 
Lord's  business.  Your  boy  and  mine  are  both 
great  rascals,  that  is  granted;  but  are  they  to  blame 
that  our  Lord  created  one  of  them  of  fire  and  the 
other  of  water?  Bertel  is  like  a  flame — burning 
hot,  high-soaring,  brilliant,  transitory,  and  I  wager 
that  his  little  wife  is  of  the  same  sort.  My  boy, 
here  is  of  the  purest  water  .  .  ." 
W  35 


338  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 


"Stop!"  cried  the  captain.  "Water  has  never 
been  my  weak  point!" 

"  Hold  your  tongue ;  my  boy  is  clear  water — flow- 
ing and  unstable,  contentedly  keeping  itself  to  the 
ground,  and  created  especially  to  put  out  the  other 
youngster's  poetic  blaze  with  its  prosaic  philosophy. 
As  for  his  wife,  she  is  of  the  same  stuff.  Do  you 
not  see,  Bertila,  that  our  Lord  has  intended  the 
boys  to  be  friends? — the  fire  to  warm  the  water, 
and  the  water  to  quench  the  fire;  and  you  would 
make  them  enemies  by  taking  from  one  and  giv- 
ing to  the  other.  No,  my  friend,  do  not  do  it,  that 
is  my  advice;  give  your  son  what  belongs  to  him; 
my  son  shall  not  want  it." 

Old  Bertila  remained  silent  a  moment.  Then 
he  said,  vehemently: 

"Do  not  teach  me  the  meaning  of  the  Lord! 
Can  you  believe  that  he,  the  newly-baked  noble- 
man, whom  you  compare  to  the  fire,  could  be  in- 
duced to  give  away  the  ring  and  take  the  axe  in  its 
stead?" 

"Never!"  exclaimed  Bertel,  excitedly. 
Meri  seized  his  hand,  and  looked  at  him  be- 
seechingly. "  Give  away  the  ring,"  said  she. 
"You  know  some  of  its  dangers;  but,  there  is  still 
one  which  I  have  feared  to  mention.  All  who  wear 
this  ring  shall  die  a  violent  death." 

"  What  matters  it?"  exclaimed  Bertel.  "The 
death  of  the  soldier  on  the  battle-field  is  beautiful 
and  glorious.     I  ask  no  better." 

"Listen  to  him!"  said  old  Bertila,  contempt- 
uously. "I  expected  it:  he  runs  after  fame,  even 
to  the  grave.  A  peaceful  death,  like  a  peaceful 
life,  is  to  him  an  abomination;  but  you,  Larsson, 
tell  me,  have  vou  a  desire  to  give  away  the  axe  and 
take  the  ring?" 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  339 

"Hm!"  replied  the  captain,  thouglitfuUy,  "  ii" 
the  ring  were  of  gold,  I  might  sell  it  in  town  and 
get  a  good  cask  of  ale  for  it.  But  as  it  is  only  of 
copper  .  .  .  pshaw,  I  let  it  go  and  keep  the  axe, 
which  is  at  least  good  to  cut  wood  with." 

"Good!"  continued  Bertila;  "it  is,  as  your 
father  said,  to  sprinkle  water  on  fire.  It  is  not  I 
who  have  made  iire  and  water  eternal  enemies  to 
each  other.  Come,  Larssou — you,  the  man  of 
sound  common-sense,  the  man  of  tana^ible  thino-s, — 
come,  be  my  son,  and  some  day  take  my  goods 
when  I  am  no  longer  among  the  living.  My  bless- 
ing be  with  you  and  your  descendants.  May  they 
multiply,  and  work  like  aiitsin  the  soil,  and  may  there 
be  an  eternal  enmity  between  them  and  those  in  high 
places,  the  nobility,  the  people  with  the  fiery  dis- 
positions. May  there  be  war  and  no  peace  between 
them  and  you,  until  this  useless  glitter  disappears 
from  human  society.  May  the  axe  and  the  ring 
live  in  open  feud  until  both  are  melted  in  the  same 
heat.  When  this  occurs,  after  a  hundred  years,  or 
more,  then  it  will  be  time  to  say,  class  distinctions 
have  seen  their  last  days,  and  a  man's  merit  is  his 
only  coat  of  arms." 

"  But,  my  father,"  exclaimed  Bertel  once  more, 
in  an  entreating  voice,  "  have  you  then  no  blessing 
to  give  me  and  my  posterity,  at  the  moment  when 
we  separate  forever?" 

"  You!"  repeated  the  old  man,  still  in  the  tones 
of  anger.  "  Go,  you  lost,  vain,  worm-eaten  l)ranches 
of  the  people's  great  trunk,  go  in  j'our  pitiful 
parade  to  your  certain  ruin.  Until  the  day  when, 
as  I  said,  the  axe  and  the  ring,  the  false  gold  and 
the  honest  steel,  melt  together.  .  .  .  until  then  T 
give  you  my  curse  as  an  inheritance,  even  unto  the 


340  TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF. 

tenth  o-eneratiou:  and  witii  it  shall  follow  disseu- 
sion,  hatred,  strife,  and  finally  a  pitiful  fall." 

"Stop  a  little,  Father  Bertila!  ''  cried  young 
Larsson.     '•  Grace  for  Bertel!" 

"  No  grace  for  nobility!"  answered  the  peasant- 
king. 

"'  Beware,  unnatural  father!"  cried  old  Larsson. 
"  The  doom  may  fall  upon  your  own  head." 

"  I  no  longer  ask  any  grace,"  said  Bertel,  pale, 
but  calm.  "  Farewell,  you  who  were  once  my 
father!  Farewell,  my  fatherland!  I  go,  never  to 
see  you  again!" 

"One  moment  more,"  interrupted  Meri,  who 
with  great  effort  and  in  violent  emotion  placed  her- 
self in  his  way.  "  You  go!  Yes,  go  .  .  .  my 
heart's  darling,  my  hope,  my  life,  my  all  .  .  .  go, 
I  shall  no  longer  stand  in  your  way.  But  before 
you  leave  me,  you  shall  take  with  you  the  secret 
which  has  been  at  once  my  life's  highest  bliss  and 
greatest  agony  .  .   ." 

"Hear  her  not!"  cried  old  Bertila,  with  a 
chano-ed  voice  and  in  evident  alarm.  "Listen  not 
to  her;  madness  speaks  from  her  lips!  .  .  .  Think 
of  your  honor  and  mine!"  whispered  he,  sternly, 
in  the  pale  daughter's  ear. 

"What  do  I  care  for  your  honor  and  mine!" 
burst  out  Meri,  with  an  impetuosity  never  before 
shown.  "  Do  vou  not  see  that  he  o-oes  .  .  .  mv 
life's  joy  leaves  me,  never  more  to  return?  He  goes; 
and  you,  hard,  inhuman  father,  wish  me  to  let  him 
depart  with  a  curse  to  foreign  lands.  But  thus  he 
shall  not  go.  For  every  curse  you  fling  upon  his 
head,  I  will  give  him  a  hundred  blessings;  and  we 
shall  see  which  will  avail  the  most  before  the 
throne  of  the  Highest — your  hatred  or  my  love,  the 


FIRE  AND   WATER.  341 

curse  of  the  grandfather,  or  the  blessing  of  the 
mother  .  .  ." 

"My  mother!"  exclaimed  Bertel,  beside  him- 
self with  surprise.  Duke  Bernhard's  enigmatical 
words  now  suddenly  became  clear  to  him. 

"  Believe  her  not;  she  knows  not  what  she  says!" 
exclaimed  old  Bertila,  vainly  trying  to  appear  calm. 

Meri  had  sunk  in  Bertel's  arms. 

"  It  is  now  said,"  whispered  she,  in  a  failing 
voice.  "Gustaf  .  .  .  my  son.  Ah!  it  is  so  strange 
and  so  sweet  to  call  you  this.  Now  you  know  the 
secret  of  my  life;  .  .  .  and  I  have  not  long  to 
blush  over  it.  Do  you  love,  me?  .  .  .  Yes,  yes! 
now  I  go  from  life  gladly  .  .  .  the  veil  is  lifted 
.  .  .  light  comes.  .  .  .  My  father  ...  I  for- 
give you  .  .  .  that  you  have  hated  and  cursed 
your  daughter's  son.  .  .  .  Forgive  me  .  .  .  that 
I    .    .    .    love    .    .    .    bless    .    .    .    my  son  ! " 

"  My  mother!"  exclaimed  Bertel,  "  hear  me, 
my  mother!  I  thank  you  ...  I  love  you!  .  .  . 
You  shall  go  with  me,  and  I  will  never  leave  you. 
Oh,  you  do  not  hear  me.  You  are  so  pale  .  .  . 
Great  God    .    .    .   she  is  dead!" 

"My  daughter!  my  only  child!"  exclaimed 
Bertila,  the  iron- hearted  peasant-king,  annihilated. 

"Judge  not,  lest  ye  be  judged!"  said  old  Lars- 
son,  with  clasped  hands.  "And  you,  our  children, 
go  out  into  life  with  peaceful  hearts.  Curse  and 
blessing  struggle  for  your  future,  and  not  only  for 
yours,  but  for  that  of  your  posterity,  unto  the  tenth 
generation.  Pray  to  Heaven  that  the  blessing  may 
conquer!" 

"Amen  !  "  said  young  Larsson  and  Katchen. 

"  Amen  ! "  said  Bertel  and  Regina. 

END    OF    FIRST    CYCLE. 


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